


C.E.E

by chamibii



Category: SK8 the Infinity (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Divergent, Cherry has PTSD, Cherry is a tsundere, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Endgame MatchaBlossom, Erotica, Joe is kind of an eager puppy, M/M, Mild Angst, Miscommunication, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Phone Sex, angst with happy ending, bottom Cherry, corrective emotional experiences, eventual Langa/Reki, matcha blossom, mentions of abuse, past Cherry/Adam, power bottom Cherry, service top Joe, submissive Joe, submissive Kojiro, top joe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamibii/pseuds/chamibii
Summary: After spending years in an abusive relationship, Cherry takes it upon himself to engage in what he describes as "corrective emotional experiences". When his safety is threatened during a hook up, he finds himself accepting Joe's offer of:"Use me. Whatever you need to do, do it with me."Can Cherry navigate the complicated dark feelings that have lingered for years while juggling (denied) feelings for Joe?
Relationships: Hasegawa Langa/Kyan Reki, Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom
Comments: 195
Kudos: 1401





	1. Chapter 1

**_A corrective emotional experience (C.E.E) is a strategy, often employed in therapy, in which the person re-experiences an old, unsettling conflict but with a new ending._ **

His body rocks from the force of the thrusts. He’s silent, but his partner is loud, obnoxiously so as he grunts in Cherry’s ear. The room is hot, too hot, and he can’t concentrate on anything else other than the beads of sweat that appear on the man’s hairline. He’s already mildly disgusted. Sex is a bit of an issue for him. It has been since… no. He can’t think about that. He won’t think about that now. He needs to stay present. Focus on how his body feels. Focus on how when the big oaf on top of him actually slows down a bit, it starts to feel good and not like someone is constantly jabbing him in the same spot over and over and over. Focus on anything but the sweat that’s beginning to roll down his partners forehead to his cheek. Fuck. He can’t focus on anything other than that; the fact that this man is sweaty and the room is hot and he  _ wants _ to feel good but he fucking  _ can’t _ . 

“Stop, stop,” Cherry rushes out. He’s going to be sick. He doesn’t know if it’s from the greasy dinner his date insisted on getting, the fact that he drank more wine than he normally does, or just the sex. “I’m going to be sick.” He scrambles to push the man off of him and lunges off the bed, stumbling in the dark room towards what he hopes is the bathroom. Luckily, it was. Unfortunately, it’s in complete and utter shambles, which doesn’t help his overwhelming feeling of being dirty and disgusted with himself. 

He has a white knuckle grip on the toothpaste caked sink, head lowered as soft pink hair falls over his shoulders and just barely misses dragging in the filthy bowl. He’s shaking, his body trembling as he struggles to catch his breath. 

_ Breathe. You’re okay. Breathe.  _

He squeezes his eyes shut, slowly counting to ten, then twenty, and relaxing as his ragged breath becomes even. 

_ You’re okay. Everything is fine. You’re fine.  _

He turns on the tap, splashing cool water on to his face in an attempt to calm his nerves. When he lifts his eyes, fear locks them in place. His reflection is there, only it’s not. He’s younger, maybe 19. Time seemed to bleed together when Cherry was with  _ him _ . His pink hair is shorter, shoulder length and he loves it. 

Loved. 

He can feel the hand in his hair, the fingers tightening and causing little flashes of pain to prickle across his scalp. The shears open close to his ear, the sound of metal sliding against metal finally making him break. He cries. Or he thinks he does. Maybe Cherry told him how much his hair means to him. Maybe Cherry didn’t fight him on it. He was tired of fighting after all. Pink flutters around him, drifting to his lap and sticking to his tear stained palms. 

_ “Much better. See how handsome you look? My gorgeous boy.” _

A loud knock on the bathroom door snaps Cherry out of his stupor. He wipes the water from his face and gathers his hair to toss over his bare shoulder. His fingers grip the door handle and he inhales a slow breath. He’s leaving. He’s not going to stay for pity sex. He doesn’t have to. He’s better than that. He doesn’t owe this man anything. 

That’s what he tells himself as he opens the door. It repeats in his mind as his date grips his arm. It gets a little quieter when his date softly begs him to “let me finish”. He says no. Softly. But it was still loud enough for his date to insist as he’s pushed to his knees. 

_ He never asked. He took. I’m in control here.  _

And once he convinced himself that he was, that he had the upper hand because his date  _ asked _ him instead of just taking, he’s able to swallow the thick bile rising in his throat and let himself go. All under the guise of, 

_ I’m in control.  _

*******

“Dude, you look kind of bad,” Joe points out as he slides a plate in front of Cherry. “Eat. You’re pale. I mean you  _ always  _ are, but even more so.” 

Cherry reaches for the chopsticks with his right hand flips Joe off with the left, middle finger extended as he takes a bite of the grilled fish. “Just because some of us would prefer to not look like leather in our old age doesn’t mean you have to resort to petty insults.” He sighs softly, shoulders dropping slightly as the flavor of the fish ignites on his tongue. Joe’s chuckle keeps him from making any further noise as heat creeps into his face. 

“It’s cute that you enjoy my food that much,” Joe leans his elbows on the counter and laces his fingers together to rest his chin on his chin on his hands. His eyes are soft as he smiles at Cherry. 

His reflexes are lightning quick and before Joe is able to move, Cherry is smacking the chef with his fan. He draws back, slipping the fan back in the sleeves of his yukata. “I didn’t like that when we were kids and I don’t like that as an adult. Stop it.” He returns to his breakfast, ignoring Joe’s whimperings. 

“It’s not my fault you’re cu—“ 

Cherry lifts his golden eyes from his plate, left hand reaching for the fan again. 

“Don’t understand why I can’t compliment you,” Joe grumbles. 

“Because you make it weird you, meathead.” He adds insult to injury, “The fish was overcooked.” He slides the plate back across to Joe and sits back in his seat folding his arms over his chest. The restaurant is on his way home and he decided to do his walk of shame right inside and ignore the barrage of questions. He couldn’t, however, ignore Joe when he says, sounding wounded, 

“Your date must have been terrible if you’re insulting your favorite dish.” 

His skin heats up as if his date is still touching him with calloused fingertips. He shudders, shaking off the ghost of damp palms, and glares at Joe. “Why do you always assume the dates go badly?”

“Because you never stay with a guy for more than one night. I’m your longest relationship and we hate each other.” 

Cherry can’t help but smirk. “I don’t  _ hate  _ you.” 

“Aww…” Joe coo’s. 

“I loathe you.” Cherry leans over to pat his hand against the side of Joe’s crestfallen face. He settles back in his chair, groaning loudly, “It was so awful Joe. He insisted on cheap food and even cheaper booze. His apartment was a mess. His air unit was broken. He was so sweaty.” Cherry’s head thumps forward onto the bar and he continues to whine, his voice muffled. “His hands felt like sandpaper. And he kept trying to pull my hair. Why? Why do the gods hate me?” 

“But you stayed the night?” 

That one question is like a kick to his gut. His stomach churns with regret. Tears of shame pinprick the corners of his eyes. “He asked me to,” he softly responds. “I-I’ve never been asked to stay.” 

Joe’s sigh is loud and filled with overwhelming concern for Cherry. “Why do you put yourself through this?”

Cherry takes a few seconds more to compose himself. When he lifts his head, his expression is stoic, feigned nonchalance settling on his face perfectly. It’s the expression he’s accustomed to. “Corrective emotional experiences. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” 

Something not quite akin to anger and just bordering on hurt flashes in Joe’s honey red eyes. “I understand more than you think Cherry. I took you to and from the hospital on multiple occasions. I helped you move in the middle of the night.”

“Then stop asking me stupid questions,” Cherry snaps. Joe recoils, pushing back from the counter. Cherry sighs heavily through his nostrils, eyes rolling as he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s getting better though. I can close my eyes and not see his face anymore. It’s working.” 

“It’s dangerous, is what it is,” Joe points out. “You hook up with random guys. You go back to their place. You force yourself to go through the motions. Then the next morning, you hate yourself. You withdraw for days. You won’t talk to me. You don’t go to work. You barely eat when you do this. How is this helping?”

_ I’m taking back what was stolen from me. I’m in control. Me. Not him. Not anymore.  _

Cherry deflects, “You sound like a jealous lover.” He leans in on the bar, an elbow propped up and his fist resting under his chin. “Jealous, Joe?” 

Without missing a beat, Joe asks, “If I say yes, then what?”

Cherry’s brow pinches together as he looks at his childhood friend. “What do you mean?” 

Joe drops his gaze, suddenly very interested in something on the restaurant floor. “What if I am jealous? Then what? What changes?” 

“I—,” Cherry pauses.

Anyone that knows them will say that this has been a long time coming, that they are long overdue for the “define the relationship” talk. Cherry would tell them that they’re stupid. That Joe deserves...better...than him. He deserves better than someone who can’t even fuck without getting physically ill. 

“If you’re jealous, you’re more stupid than I thought,” Cherry whispers. 

Joe shakes his head slowly, unfolding his arms from his across his chest and kicking away from the counter to grab the plate from the bar. “Whatever. Next time you do your walk of shame, skip the restaurant.”

“Joe, wait,” Cherry calls out. Joe stops, his steps faltering, but he keeps his back to Cherry. A million thoughts run through his mind— _ Don’t go. I’m not worth it. Stay. I’m broken beyond repair. I want you. You deserve so much more than me— _ but all he can say is, “Thank you for breakfast.”

*******

“What do you mean he almost confessed?” Langa looks up from his textbooks. Entrance exams for university are quickly approaching and Cherry’s cousin is taking studying seriously. To an extent. When Cherry yells at him about his future. “How does someone ‘almost’ confess?”

Cherry shrugs. “He hinted about being jealous and asked what would change if he was.”

Langa hums softly, adding absently, “He always says you’re cute too.”

Cherry’s ears burn as he ignores Langa’s comment. “We’re friends. Grew up together. In addition to that, he was there during... everything.” Cherry has shared bits and pieces of his life with Langa in the hopes that the younger man can use his stories of abuse as a cautionary tale.

“Do you like him?”

“No.” 

“So, then you love him?” 

Cherry wacks Langa with his fan, glaring across the table. “We’re friends.”

Langa rubs his cheek, wincing. “What if he offered to help with your, uh, problem?” 

Cherry can feel the color drain from his face. “What problem?” 

Langa looks apologetic as he lowers his eyes back to his textbooks. “I overheard you talking to someone about...doing what you’re doing so you can get over what he did to you. I’m sorry.”

Cherry plays with a strand of his hair, his eyes downcast and shifting nervously as he says, “It’s not your fault. He won’t ‘help’,” he uses air quotes, “and I can’t ask him. That’s...not a conversation I can have with him.” 

Langa sounds genuinely confused when he asks, “Why not? I thought you guys told each other everything?”

Cherry closes his laptop. He stares over at Langa, studying his face. His head is slightly tilted and there’s the tiniest crease between his brows. His pale blue hair is tied back in a sloppy ponytail. Aqua eyes hold Cherry’s and he can feel the sincerity coming from the older teen in waves. “You’re worried,” he states. 

Langa nods. “I try not to be and I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t think your behavior is safe,” he softly finishes. 

Everyone that knows about his fucked up form of therapy has an opinion. Yet, no one had an opinion when he was with Adam. No one said anything about the bruises that covered his wrists and arms. No one said anything when he was forced to cut his hair. They all told him it looked “good” and “we haven’t seen your face in years!” No one said anything when he—he couldn’t go to work for a week because he was in so much pain. No one but Joe. 

_ “I’ll kill him if you want,” Joe nonchalantly mentions. “He comes to the restaurant often. Find out if he has any food allergies and I’ll do it.”  _

Cherry can feel his resolve weakening. He’s tried, for years, to keep a tight lid on his feelings. Truth be told, he’s held a flame for Joe for years. But he also knows Joe’s dating history. He knows Joe has a type and that type usually comes with large tits and an empty head. He finally lifts golden eyes to meet Langa’s. “Joe is only into women.” 

Langa’s focus is back on his studying. His pen continues to scratch across the paper and he doesn’t miss a beat when he retorts, “Has he said that himself?” 

Slowly, Cherry answers, “No…”

“So you assume he is. I think you assume so because it’s easier. You’ve already accepted rejection so he can’t reject you himself.” 

Langa’s words slam into him, causing his breath to hitch in his chest and his grip to tighten on his thigh. “That’s not it.” 

“Then what is it? Because from where I’m sitting,” he puts his pen down and looks up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “it looks like you’re afraid to hear Joe’s truth because then you’d have to admit your own.”

Cherry hates how small he sounds. He sounds weak and vulnerable and he despises that, but try as he might, he can’t stop the overwhelming emotion that floods his voice. “I can’t. He’s...too good for me.” 

“Think about it? About talking to him and hearing him out?”

He wants to tell Langa to mind his business. He wants to remind the teen that he’s an adult and how he goes about healing his past wounds is no one’s concern. However, the tears shining in Langa’s eyes and the heavy sense of worry that exists between them is enough for Cherry to say, “Okay. I’ll think about it.” 

*******

The sheets smell like spring. Like light floral notes with a hint of something bright. He smiles into the mattress as he inhales the clean scent. His mind is drifting and he lets it for a while. When he realizes he’s been too quiet, he moans, a loud pornographic sound that has his date tightening his grip on his hip as he’s yanked back onto a thick cock. He didn’t intend to pick up this guy. He intended to enjoy dinner with a client and go home, but the conversation he had with Langa a few days ago left thoughts of the past screaming loudly in his mind. He needed to quiet them. And what better way than to pick up the man who kept eye-fucking him from across the crowded restaurant? 

_ At least his house is clean and cool.  _

Fingers tangle in his hair and his pulse immediately quickens. His heart hammers in his chest as his mouth runs dry. “N-no,” he turns his face to the side, his voice no longer muffled. “I don’t like my hair being touched.” 

“Then what’s the point of keeping it so long?” The grip tightens and he can feel the strain on his scalp as he struggles against the pull. 

“Stop.” His breathing is shallow, rapid, and ragged. He reaches back to still his date's hips and his hand is smacked away. 

“Almost done. Not like you give a shit. Fucking pillow princess,” he grumbles. His pace becomes faster, hips relentlessly smacking against Cherry’s ass as he tugs on his hair, craning his neck back. 

_ “Just lay there. That’s all you’re good for anyways.”  _

Fear grows from a small flicker to a raging inferno as he struggles to keep a solid grip on reality. He feels like he’s dreaming while wide awake. His mind dances back and forth between being in the present moment and reliving the awful past. The sheets don’t smell like spring. They smell spicy with a sweet undertone. They’re a deep red that matches Adam’s eyes and compliments his skin tone. The hands on his body don’t feel like they did before. They’re softer, gentle even in their cruelty. When his date leans down to whisper, “You like that?” it's Adam’s voice he hears and he can’t. He can’t. 

He scrambles forward quickly, nearly falling from the bed in a tangle of sheets, but he recovers, grabbing his clothes from the floor. “I can’t,” he repeats over and over as he pulls on jeans. He doesn’t bother to close them. He needs space. He’s not safe here. Adam...his date…they’re both going to hurt him again and he can’t. He pulls his shirt over his head and runs to the front, ignoring his date spitting vitriol at his back as he pulls on his sneakers. 

The farther he gets from his date’s home, the more the pressure eases from his chest. His vision is blurred and he realizes it’s not from tears, although he is crying, but because he left his glasses behind. He curses loudly as he slams his fist against his thigh. It knocks against his phone and without thinking twice, he fishes it out of his pocket and dials the only number he knows by heart. 

“It’s three in the morning. Today is my first day off this month. You better be sick and dying or I’ll make sure you are by the end of our conversation.” 

Cherry tries to compose his emotions, but he hiccups a pitiful, “Can you come get me?” 

Joe’s lighthearted tone changes quickly. “Where are you?” A woman’s voice can be heard in the background asking who Joe is talking to. 

“Never mind,” Cherry sniffs. “You’re busy. I’ll wake Langa.”

There’s a rustling noise in the background and he can hear Joe telling the woman that she needs to get up and get dressed. “I’m not. I’ll come. Where are you?” 

“Uh,” Cherry squints and looks around. He can’t read the street signs clearly so he gives Joe descriptions of landmarks. 

“I’ll be there in ten.” 

In 8 minutes Joe pulls up on his bike. He barely comes to a stop before he’s hopping off and sprinting towards Cherry. “What happened?” 

Cherry feels like an idiot now. He’s had time to calm down and he realizes he might have overreacted. “I was on a date and…” he tells Joe enough information to make him understand. 

“When are you going to stop this?” 

Cherry’s head snaps up and he meets Joe’s gaze. “I didn’t ask you to come pick me up so you can scold me,  _ father _ .” 

Joe crosses his arms over his chest and steels his resolve, not backing down like he usually does. “Obviously someone needs to parent you. I would say you’re acting like a teenager, but my stupid kid brother has the common sense to not hook up with a fucking stranger every goddamn night.” 

Cherry’s cheeks sting, heat rapidly coloring them a bright red. “If you’re going to lecture me, right now of all times, just go.” He turns on his heels and walks in the direction he believes the nearest busy street is. He can catch a cab home. He still has his wallet. 

Joe’s voice is loud, carrying through the quiet neighborhood, “Why do you do this to me?”

Cherry whips around. His eyes flash with an angry challenge. “Oh, so now it’s about you?”

“You’re not stupid Kaoru—“

“—Don’t call me that—“

“—You have to know how I feel—“

“Shut up,” Cherry cuts across Joe. “Shut up. Just, please. Stop talking.” 

“No. I know how badly you were hurt—are hurt. You claim you’re doing this because you want to heal but,” Joe moves forward, wincing as Cherry flinches. He lifts one of Cherry’s wrists gingerly and holds it up. “How is hurting yourself even more going to heal the damage that was done to you?” 

Cherry didn’t notice the bruises on his wrist. He was in such a hurry he didn’t notice. 

“Then you call me and like an idiot I drop what I’m doing every fucking time and I listen and I watch as you try to rationalize that what you’re doing is helping. But it’s not.” He drops Cherry’s wrist and takes a step back. “Let me help you.” 

“How?” 

“You can’t have the corrective experiences you’re looking for if you keep sleeping with random men.” He holds Cherry’s gaze as he states, “Use me. Whatever you need to do, do it with me.” 

“No,” Cherry shakes his head. “Not you.” His heart aches from the look on Joe’s face and the dejected sound of his voice. 

“Am I not good enough?” 

“Fuck. That’s not—I—“ Cherry pushes his hair out of his face and stares up at Joe. He’s beautiful. Cherry has always thought so—long before his tan and tattoo, long before him seemingly bulking up overnight, long before he decided to grow out his wavy hair and then complain incessantly about it. Langa’s words echo in his mind again. He thought about it. Nonstop. That’s partly why he hooked up with some random tonight. He needed to  _ stop _ thinking about what it would be like if he only did this with Joe and no one else. He breaks. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“Fine. But,” Cherry holds up a hand, stopping Joe from moving in closer, “I don’t want to hear about your feelings and you certainly won’t hear about mine. There are none. I don’t want you to kiss me, ever. We aren’t dating so don’t ask me to come over so you can cook for me while we watch some shitty action movie. I won’t ever sleep over at your place and you won’t sleep over at mine. Don’t hold my hand, don’t tell me I’m cute, and definitely don’t  _ ever _ cuddle me afterwards,” his mouth curls up in a sneer. 

Joe’s pout is almost comical. “Then what can I do?” 

“Fuck me and leave. Oh, and take me to get my glasses. But you’re going in to get them.” He pats Joe’s shoulder and walks towards his bike, climbing on the back and placing the extra helmet on his head. “Still want me to use you, Kojiro?” 


	2. Chapter 2

The restaurant is noisy thanks to the dinner rush. The sounds of customers chatting, food sizzling, and the staff communicating to one another loudly, are all sounds that bring Cherry some odd type of comfort. The familiar sounds act like a soothing balm, melting away his anxiety. He’s here during a dinner rush because Joe texted him, “So how does this all work?” Instead of responding in the same informal fashion, Cherry dresses in a black yukata, his hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, and heads to the restaurant. He’s seated at the bar, picking at a plate of pasta primavera, his appetite nowhere to be found as nerves—stupid, ridiculous nerves—has his stomach in a white knuckled death grip. 

He has no clue  _ why  _ he’s so nervous. After all, he  _ agreed  _ to Joe’s stupid proposition. He pushes aside the bowl of pasta and lifts his eyes to watch Joe move around the kitchen. He’s almost graceful in the way he easily slips around wait staff, his sous-chef, senior chef, and the saucier. His usual lighthearted, jovial nature is still present, but it’s overshadowed by his commanding aura. He easily instructs, gently corrects, and firmly leads, making the dinner rush run smoothly. By the time the rush dies down, an hour before closing, Cherry has worked his way through a bottle of expensive wine and Joe is surreptitiously shooting him furtive glances from over the heads of his staff. 

“I can  _ see _ the little wheels in your mind desperately trying to turn. What?” Cherry’s words are slower and slightly slurred. 

Joe approaches the bar and leans over, folding his arms across the heavily lacquered top. “Do you want to maybe talk about this when you’re not inebriated? And you barely ate anything. Want me to make you something else?” His eyes are softer than usual and there’s this…look…that makes Cherry’s stomach tighten slightly and his breath hitch in his chest. 

He reaches out to push Joe’s face away. “I’m not drunk. And I’m definitely not hungry for your heavy foods.” 

“So, ginger rice and miso salmon?” Joe chuckles, his eyes shining brightly as Cherry’s face flushes. 

He waves a hand, seemingly clearing the air of the perceived thickening tension between them. “I don’t care. I came here to talk. Not to be fed second rate Italian and third rate Japanese cuisine.” 

“Okay,” Joe rolls his eyes. “If you hate my food so much, why do you eat at least one meal a day here?” 

“Because I eat for free,” Cherry defends himself. 

“Remind me to start charging you then,” Joe laughs over his shoulder. Comfortable silence rests between the two as he cooks and delegates opening responsibilities for the next day to the manager. The food is plated and Joe redirects his attention to cleaning his mess as Cherry quietly eats. 

“I don’t know how this works,” Cherry finally breaks the silence. “I—I usually get a strong, uh, urge and then that’s it.” He can feel his skin heating up, the blood warming under his cheeks and inching down into his neck and chest. Joe’s leaning against one of the countertops, beautiful red eyes trained on Cherry as he stumbles over his words. He doesn’t interrupt, he never does, and Cherry finds it easier to explain his “process”. “It’s usually strongest in the middle of the night. So I’ll plan to go out. Usually restaurants, a bar or two, a few times a movie theater.”

Joe interjects, “Why the middle of the night?” 

He shrugs and answers honestly, “I can’t hide from my thoughts when I’m trying to fall asleep. There are no loud distractions, no work tasks to complete, no lazy cousin to steer in the right direction. The past is loud at midnight, Joe.” He pushes his empty plate forward, sighing softly. “I try to ignore it, but—anyways,” he gives a subtle shake of his head, pushing aside the ghastly images that haunt him daily as he schools his expression and forces the thin tremble from his voice, “You need to be available from 11pm to 3 am.” 

“So, now?” Joe looks at his watch and looks back up at Cherry, a green eyebrow arched in interest. 

“What? No. I-I’m not even in the mood. Don’t be ridiculous,” Cherry snaps. 

Joe shrugs his shoulders. “I’m just trying to understand babe.” He unbuttons his chef jacket and unties the apron from his waist, tossing it onto the counter. 

Cherry’s stomach flips at the pet name and he presses a palm to his abdomen, pushing on it forcefully and hopefully killing off the annoying butterflies that have dared to take flight. “No. Definitely none of that.” 

“You said no feelings. And I’m not telling you how much I li—“

Cherry realizes Joe has expertly kept his distance so he’s out of reach of the fan. However, Cherry slides the left geta from his foot and throws it across the kitchen, nailing Joe in the middle of the chest and effectively cutting him off. “Don’t cross boundaries you muscle bound gorilla.” 

Joe holds the geta in his hand and makes an attempt at an awful joke, “If I slide this back on your foot and it fits, I’m kind of like your Prince Charming.” 

Cherry groans loudly as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “If your goal is to suck any arousal from my body, congratulations. You’ve succeeded.” 

“I hadn’t planned on sucking anything tonight, but I can,” Joe wiggles his eyebrows as he smirks. 

Cherry takes that opportunity to shift the conversation from himself. “I thought you’ve only been with women?” 

“Nope.” Joe comes around the bar and sits at one of the stools next to Cherry. “I’m an equal opportunity lover baby,” he winks. He dodges Cherry’s fan, hopping to a standing position and pulling the pink haired man with him. “But we’re not here to talk about me.” He tucks a strand of stray pink hair behind Cherry’s ear. “Tell me how I can help.” 

He’s close, too close, and it’s making Cherry’s body temperature rise, his skin flushing a bright pink under Joe’s intense gaze. He pulls away, coughing lightly to clear his throat, and settles back on the stool. “Being available. I’ll call or text you and we can decide where to meet. I’d prefer your place. I’ve done my best to shelter Langa from this, whereas you bring empty headed bimbo after empty headed bimbo back to your house with no regards to Reki.” 

“Reki has also had a visitor over a few nights in a row lately,” Joe hums, “But, be that as it may, is there like a progression to activities? Do we just dive right in? How do I arouse you if I can’t kiss you? What if I accidentally kiss you? Is there a safe word? Do you want aftercare?”

Cherry blinks over at the large chef, quite frankly in awe of the thought he’s given to their situation. “How do you approach prep?”

“Usually by cleaning the vegetables first, arranging them by what we need, and then—“ 

“If you expect me to find humor in your idiocy, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“You’re smiling though,” Joe teases. 

“Am not.”

“Mhm,” Joe leans in close again, his finger tip lightly trailing along Cherry’s cheek. “I can see your dimple. See. There it is again.” 

And why that stupid little observation has heat suddenly pooling in Cherry’s lower stomach is a mystery to the man, but he finds himself leaning in, the desire for more touch growing. Joe has always been gentle with him. Cherry can’t help but wonder how his large hands would feel as they flex around his hips. His mind wanders to the possibility of what it would feel like to have Joe bring him to an orgasm. 

_ “I didn’t say you were allowed to come, Kaoru.” _

_ He tries to apologize, the words twisting and mixing together to rush out in a garbled mess of word salad as fear steals his voice. “It just felt..you felt really goo—“ the sting of Adam’s palm against his cheek has tears of shame welling in his eyes.  _

_ “Apologize, you filthy slut.”  _

_ “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”  _

“I’m sorry,” he repeats softly. 

Large, warm hands cup his face. “Hey. Hey, Cherry?” Joe’s voice pulls him back to the present. “What are you sorry for?” 

“Touch me,” Cherry gasps. Large tears cascade down his face as he continues to plead, “Anywhere. Please. It-it doesn’t matter. Just do it.” The restaurant fades, turning into Adam’s bedroom again, before bleeding into the two of them in the back of the Mercedes Benz and suddenly he’s being berated for climaxing, Adam not caring that Tadashi is there as he hits, calls names, and forces Cherry to apologize for experiencing pleasure. “You wanted to help?” Joe nods. “Then fucking help,” his voice cracks with emotion. “Please?” He adds, voice  softer as fear chokes him. 

Cherry squeezes his eyes shut tightly, breath stilling in his chest as he waits for the first wave of shame to wash over him as Joe touches him. He waits for fingers to untie his yukata. He waits for hands to slide up his thighs and index fingers to hook in the band of his suteteko to touch him. He braces himself, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Fingers finally close around his wrists, pulling him sideways into Joe’s lap. 

His words break under the weight of his panic, his voice sounding strained when he asks, “What are you doing?” 

Joe’s arms tighten around him. The chef softly replies, “Touching you. You never specified that the touch had to be purely sexual.” 

Cherry’s exhale is shaky due to the sob that breaks up his breath. “I said no cuddling.”

Hands smooth up and down his back carefully, avoiding the tendrils of pink that have escaped his braid to dangle down his back. “You said no cuddling _afterwards_ ,” Joe corrects. 

“I also said no holding my hand,” Cherry sniffs. He pulls his glasses off to wipe his eyes. 

“I’m not. Your hands have been free the entire time.”

Cherry sighs heavily, “God I hate you.” 

“I know.” Joe pulls him tighter into his chest, wrapping his arms around his waist. He rests his chin on Cherry’s shoulder. “I hate you too, you whiny bastard.”

His laugh is soft as he rests his cheek against Joe’s head. “Overgrown puppy.”

“Pompous windbag.”

“Thank you,” Cherry whispers. 

“Do my ears deceive me?! Did you just  _ thank me?!”  _ Joe’s gasp is grossly over-exaggerated. 

A loud  _ whack _ is accompanied by a loud groan. “Your muscles must cut off oxygen to your brain,” Cherry smirks. With a flick of his wrist, the fan is closed and Joe is left rubbing his cheek. 

Joe’s complaints spiral into a continued back and forth. They call names, bring up embarrassing tales from their childhood, and insult the others work ethic. All the while, Cherry sits comfortably in Joe’s lap, no urge to leave, no desire to run away. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cherry is in a state of disbelief at how his body is responding to Joe’s voice. His hips flex, rolling up as they seek out friction. He’s crossed the threshold from “hard” to achingly so as he pulsates and throbs in his pajama bottoms. His chest heaves as he purposely attempts to slow down his breathing. Joe hasn’t really said anything inherently sexual to him and already he’s dripping wet, the front of his pajamas slicking up as he ignores his cock. “Are you touching yourself?” He asks, to take the perceived pressure off himself, but he chokes on a swallow, hissing out a curse when Joe simply replies, 
> 
> “You didn’t say I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the tags to include "phone sex" and "submissive Kojiro". Although he is definitely taking a submissive role, there's a reason why. And it's not to establish a D/s relationship. Maybe in the next MatchaBlossom fic, but this one has a purpose outside of that :)

Cherry lies on his back, eyes staring up at the ceiling. The nights are always the hardest for him and tonight is no exception. The oscillating fan does little to cool him, the heat from the summer night air making his thin shirt cling to his body. The covers are pushed down to the bottom of his futon in the hopes that he’d be offered some relief from the gods and a cool breeze would caress his heated skin. 

The gods are not only selfish, withholding a fresh breeze from him, but also cruel as they allow memory after memory of Adam to tumble in his mind like jagged shards of glass, piercing him repeatedly until he’s pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes and choking back a sob. They were only together for four years—18 years old to 22–yet somehow in the span of 1,460 days, Cherry had managed to not only lose himself but to become completely unrecognizable. He doesn’t know who he is anymore. When he doesn’t avoid a mirror, he sees dull eyes that no longer hold a passion for life. He’s easily startled, jumping every time someone passes by him or touches him without gaining his attention verbally. His appetite waxes and wanes like the cycles of the moon—one day he’s ravenous and the next week just the smell of food nauseates him. He’s moodier than usual too; snapping at people and having to swallow around the seemingly permanent lump in his throat at the smallest hint of inconvenience. Most days he wishes he was able to disappear, escaping the life that reminded him of pain and moving somewhere far away. Maybe Thailand. Or Costa Rica. He can’t, though. He has Langa and his responsibilities to the business. So he’s resigned to always dwelling in fear— anxiety, his baseline and terror, it’s companion— at the thought of eventually running into Adam. 

Adam. 

The mere thought of the man has Cherry curling in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest as he rolls over onto his side. When he first left and stayed with Joe for a while, he was convinced that he made a mistake. He used to lay awake at night, much like he is now, and run through every good memory in their relationship on a continuous, torturous loop. In the mornings, pale faced and deprived of sleep, he would tell Joe about the good times, ending his ramblings with, “Maybe I overreacted. I should call him” and his friend would stop him, distracting him by asking him to do some mundane chore around the house. After the first few months of the breakup, his mind moved to the truth, recalling every ugly and painful thing that happened. 

Even now, two years post break-up, he can still feel the fingers around his throat. He can still hear the cruelty in Adam’s voice as he’s demeaned and berated. He can feel the weight of a muscular body on top of his as he’s being pinned down to the ma— 

“No,” he gasps aloud, the sound of his voice pulling him from the past. He fumbles for his phone and squints as bright light suddenly alters the darkness. He keys in a number and waits for the line to pick up. 

“Hey,” Joe’s voice is soft and knowing. “Want to talk about it?” 

“No. I need you.” 

Sounds of the dishes clinking together, a deep voice giving orders, and water running nearly drown out Joe as he replies, “Can’t. We have a health inspection coming up soon. I’m knee deep in cleansers and grease.” 

Cherry’s voice is small and trembling, “You said. Whatever I needed to do…” he trails off, his voice cracking as he struggles to maintain his composure. 

“Give me a minute,” Joe says to him. There’s a rustling sound, like the phone is being pressed to his chest, and Joe’s muffled voice can be heard delegating, “Make sure you move the stove and clean behind. All of them. Power wash the floors, and for the love of god, do  _ not  _ mix cleansers. Our health insurance is good but not  _ that  _ good. I have to take this call, I trust you all. Don’t let me down.” 

Cherry’s counting slowly and focusing on his breathing as he waits for Joe. The faint sound of an office door clicking shut signals Joe coming back to their conversation. 

“I’m sorry I can’t leave right now. Do you want to talk?” 

Cherry sighs heavily, “If I wanted to talk I would schedule to see a therapist. I need to be fucked. Which is what you agreed to.” 

“I know. I know,” Joe exhales slowly, “You just need to get off, right?”

Is that all he needs? To just ejaculate? 

“No, it’s-it’s more than that,” he corrects and for the first time in a long while, he explains, “I need to feel…wanted. And as stupid as it mean seem, as reckless and careless, maybe even self destructive, as it may be, sex meets that need.” 

Joe’s voice is low, rumbling with a rich timbre as he says, “What if I were to tell you how badly I’ve wanted you?” 

His cheeks grow increasingly hot and he knows it’s not from the humid night air. Largely in part because the blood in his veins runs hot, concentrating in his lower abdomen. “I’ve never—“

“Shh,” Joe interrupts, “I know you Kaoru. Right now your mind is racing with a thousand and one thoughts about what to do, how to do it, and being worried about whether or not I’ll like it. Isn’t it?” 

The way Joe says his name, each syllable falling from his lips delicately, has goosebumps pimpling up on his skin. His mouth has run dry and he struggles to swallow, but still manages a weak sounding, “Don’t call me that.” 

“Yes,  _ sir _ .” 

Cherry’s inhale is sharp, his body jolting slightly as his skin tingles. He’s never—not with anyone—he’s always been submissive, subservient even. 

Joe’s voice is low, wrapping around Cherry like a silk sheet as he asks, “Did you like that?”

“No,” Cherry lies. “Phone sex is stupid.”

“Bullshit,” Joe argues. “I can hear the subtleties in your voice, Cherry. Each inhale of breath is a little ragged, but you’re trying so hard to stay in control. Take control, then. Tell me what to do, what to say, and I’ll do whatever you ask.” 

Cherry’s hand has long since wandered down his stomach and is resting on the waistband of his pajama bottoms. He’s aroused, of course he is, his dick has been semi-hard for the past few minutes, but he’s also scared. What if Joe has him on speaker phone and others are listening? What if he actually starts to engage in phone sex and Joe tells him he was joking? 

“Hey, listen to me, okay? You’re in control here. Whatever you want from me, I’ll do. I’m yours. Understand?”

Cherry ignores the implications in the last statement as he exhales a shuddering breath. “Tell-tell me how badly you’ve wanted me. But,” Cherry rushes out, “No feelings.” 

“No feelings,” Joe agrees. “I can’t help it,” he starts, “each time I close my eyes, no matter who I’m with, all I can see is you. I-fuck-I imagine how you’d sound when I enter you. You know that little sigh someone makes? I bet yours sounds like heaven.” 

Cherry grips his thigh, swallowing thickly as his voice shakes, “I don’t like how I sound. Ad—he always told me I was too loud and it was a turn off.” 

“I bet you sing beautifully when you’re opened up. I can’t wait to hear and cherish each sound you make.” 

Cherry’s breath stills in his chest, words faltering as he whispers, “Tell me what you’d do to me, Kojiro. Please?” 

“Love it when you say my name,” he groans softly. “I want to fall to my knees and worship every inch of you. I know you said no kissing, but I can’t help but think about how your lips would taste and how soft they’d feel against mine. I would undress you slowly, savoring each new expanse of bare skin and relishing how your body feels under my hands. I’d lay you down and kiss from the bottom of your feet, to your inner thighs, slowly running my tongue along your sensitive skin.” Joe’s breathing has quickened, each inhale sounding slightly more laborious than before, each exhale sounding rushed. 

Cherry is in a state of disbelief at how his body is responding to Joe’s voice. His hips flex, rolling up as they seek out friction. He’s crossed the threshold from “hard” to achingly so as he pulsates and throbs in his pajama bottoms. His chest heaves as he purposely attempts to slow down his breathing. Joe hasn’t really said anything inherently sexual to him and already he’s dripping wet, the front of his pajamas slicking up as he ignores his cock. “Are you touching yourself?” He asks, to take the perceived pressure off himself, but he chokes on a swallow, hissing out a curse when Joe simply replies, 

“You didn’t say I can.”

His composure, already fraying and hanging on by the thinnest of threads, snaps and he’s panting, gasping as he begs, nay, orders Joe to touch himself. “Do it. I want to hear you, Kojiro. Fuck. Let me hear you.” He pushes his pajama bottoms under his ass cheeks, a soft moan haphazardly tumbling from his lips as he  _ finally _ abandons his embarrassment and gives into the dizzying pleasure. He hasn’t touched himself in months, unable to due to the mental blocks that pop up every time he tries, but right now, in this moment, he’s overcome with a need so strong that he doesn’t have to fight his demons; Joe’s warmth, his voice, the things he says, are bright enough to drive back the darkness that envelops him day in and day out. 

The distinct rustle of clothing being pulled off is followed by Joe groaning lowly. “Fuck. I’m not going to last. I-I can’t believe—“ 

“—Shut up,” Cherry pants. His breathing is rough around the edges as he whimpers, “No feelings. Just—talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking about.” 

The slick sound of Joe fisting his cock is just barely noticeable as he stammers out, between deep, throaty moans, “Holding your legs open and watching you stretch around me as I fill you.” 

Cherry’s back arches as his fingers flex around his cock. His grip tightens as he strokes his shaft, hand twisting easily at the crown before sliding back down to the base. “More,” he gasps, “I need more.” 

“I want you to fuck my throat until I’m hoarse. Gag me until I can’t breathe and I—shit—I’m crying.” 

He presses his head back into the futon, shutting his eyes tightly closed as he imagines Joe on his knees, saliva wetting his chin, large tears clinging to long, thick green lashes that frame wet and shining red eyes beautifully. His body temperature skyrockets as a thin film of sweat clings to every inch of his skin. He’s near tears when his orgasm crescendos, reaching a mind numbing, vision whiting peak as he drops the phone to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle his cries. He fills his fist to overflowing, hips still cantering up of their own volition as he feverishly whispers one word over and over. 

“Kojiro. Kojiro. Fuuuuck.”

He sucks down large gulps of air through his wide open mouth, breathing heavily as if he just finished an uphill sprint. He comes down slowly, his body feeling impossibly light, his mind fuzzy with post-coital bliss. 

“You there?” Joe’s far away voice snaps him out of his sex fueled fog. “Cherry? You still there?” 

He grimaces as he spreads his messy fingers apart. He puts the phone on speaker and with his clean hand, carries it into the restroom. “Yeah. Did you...y’know?” He’s suddenly shy, although it makes no sense to be seeing as how he not only orgasmed with Joe on the other line, but when he did so, he moaned his name. Repeatedly. 

“No, but it’s not about me. And, before you say anything, I’m fine with that.” A loud knock on Joe’s office door has him swearing and Cherry jumping. “Just a minute!” He yells out. To Cherry, he says, “Gotta go. Try and get some rest okay? I’ll check on you in the morning.” 

Too tired for some smart ass remark, Cherry yawns out, “Okay, talk to you in the morning babe.” His eyes shoot wide as he freezes, caught like a deer in the headlights as he prays for any god listening that Joe did  _ not  _ hear that. 

Joe’s soft chuckle is an indication that he did, but he doesn’t say anything. He instead, softly says, “Goodnight and sweet dreams Kaoru.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, I was a dumb kid, and maybe it was all of the excitement and the festival food, but the feeling I had then,” Joe places a hand over his heart and grips his shirt tightly, “It was breath taking. I couldn’t breathe then and I can barely breathe now. If my love for him were an ocean, it would be deep enough to drown us all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda cute guys. 
> 
> We got a POV switch to Joe!
> 
> And thank y’all for the love on this fic!! When I saw the opening to Sk8 for the first time and these two were standing together, I shrieked, “I SHIP THEM.” I was home alone so no one shared in my joy lol

“Wait, wait, wait,” Reki pauses, dishes precariously perched on his arms, and stares up at Joe. “You actually  _ offered _ to sleep with Cherry?!” 

Joe’s eyes widen and then narrow as he glares at his younger brother. One might think it odd that his 19 year old brother is privy to the going’s on of his bedroom, but he and Reki have always been close. They’ve only grown closer since the teen came to live with him full time. However, discussing his sex life in the middle of a crowded restaurant is entirely inappropriate and rather embarrassing. Especially when the saucier, Higa, lets out a long, 

“Ooooooh it’s about time!” 

Joe whips his head around to hiss a low, “Shut up!” before turning back to Reki. “Ever heard of privacy? Decorum? Tact, even?” 

To which Reki snarkily responds, “Ever hear of not rubbing one out in the middle of a deep cleaning for a health inspection, big brother?” 

The kitchen staff giggle, a few of the waiters and waitresses shoot him lingering looks, and one particularly clingy waitress walks by at the worst moment and sighs, “Wish it were me.” 

Joe can either strangle Reki where he stands and miss him dearly when he crosses over to the spirit world or he can pretend to discipline Reki in front of the staff, nipping any future rumors in the bud. 

He goes with the latter. 

He’d really miss his little brother too much. 

“Sorry dude,” Joe mumbles.

Reki places the dishes down on the countertop, wipes his hands on his apron, and turns to face Joe. “For what?” 

Joe clears his throat with a cough, inhales a deep breath, and with his most stern, authoritative voice lays into Reki. “Discussing my private life during work hours is not only an egregious crossing of personal boundaries, but implying I was also pleasuring myself while in my office only serves to spread rumors that border dangerously on insubordination and are indeed sexual harassment. Please, step into my office Reki.” 

Reki is a deep shade of pink as he walks past Joe, mumbling, “I’m so calling mom and dad later to tell on you.”

The staff watch the exchange as still and as quiet can be, with wide eyes and open mouths, but when Joe turns his attention back to them, they pick up the pace, hustling around the kitchen and speaking loudly. 

_ Worked like a charm.  _

He exits the kitchen, moving down the short hallway to his office and closes the door with a little too much force, but he rolls with it. The slam really makes the whole thing believable. 

Reki is sitting at  _ his _ desk, phone in hand, finger poised over the keypad as he dials their parents. 

“You wouldn’t,” Joe glares. 

“I would,” Reki counters, “Unless…” he trails off as he places the phone back. “You admit that for the past 19 years of  _ my  _ life, I was right about you being hopelessly, head over heels, nose wide open, heart eyed, doki doki, in love with one Sakurayashiki Kaoru.” His mouth curves up into a shit eating grin as he stares over at Joe. 

Joe crosses his arms over his chest and returns the same plastic grin. “I will, if you tell me who you’ve been spending your time with.”

“You know, I’m fine with just saying ‘I told you so’.” 

“Thought so,” Joe chuckles as he sits. “But yes I did offer. He was—behaving in a manner that was unsafe.” 

Reki’s stare is blank, his expression unreadable as he slowly says, “So you saw an opportunity.”

“What?” Joe is taken aback. Phrasing it like that makes him seem like some type of slime. “No, it’s not like that. I…” he trails off, lowering his eyes to his hands that are clasped tightly together in his lap. He’s been asking himself for days why he offered himself to Cherry. This wasn’t some opportunity that he waited for and pounced on like a feral predator. “I care about him,” he finally says. “I want him to be happy and healthy. To see him survive all that he did with Adam and then risk being placed in a similar situation or worse? I can’t stand by and not offer him help when he’s hurting.”

“Dude,” Reki whispers, “You’re so in love with him.” 

Joe slowly lifts his eyes to meet Reki’s gaze. “I am,” he agrees. “I have been since we were 14. Remember that summer he forgot to cut his hair because he was studying for entrance exams and going to cram school?” Reki nods, urging Joe on with the subtle bow of his head. “I remember looking at him and being in awe of him. We were at a festival and the lanterns gave him this almost ethereal, otherworldly glow. He looked delicate, fragile almost, with long hair, but I remember thinking how strong he’s always been. He’s always been smart, driven, sharp with his words, and quick witted. Yeah, I was a dumb kid, and maybe it was all of the excitement and the festival food, but the feeling I had then,” Joe places a hand over his heart and grips his shirt tightly, “It was breath taking. I couldn’t breathe then and I can barely breathe now. If my love for him were an ocean, it would be deep enough to drown us all.” He slumps back in his chair, pushing a hand through his wavy locks. “I’m stupid, huh?” 

Reki sniffs softly, wiping at his eyes as he mumbles, “No. That was beautiful. You got it bad, but it was beautiful.” 

Joe drops his head in his palms and groans loudly, “I know. I know. I’m kind of fucked, aren’t I?”

Reki’s phone dings and he hops up, circling around the desk to clap a hand on Joe’s shoulder, “Only a little bit. I’ll be home late tonight.”

Joe waves him off, mumbling, “Use protection. I’m too young to be an uncle.” 

Reki snorts, “Like that would  _ ever _ be an issue. See you later bro!”

The door closes firmly behind Reki. Joe makes no motion to return to the kitchen, choosing to work on purchase orders, the staff schedule, and a new dinner menu in order to get his mind off Cherry. 

It works until 11:35pm. 

His phone vibrates and a picture of Cherry with a bright and rare smile, one that Joe had to sneak, lights up his screen. He puts in his head phones and answers the call, “Blue.” 

Cherry’s sigh is already full of agitation and annoyance. “Why blue?” 

“I don’t feel right saying ‘yello’ because I’m not a dad.” 

“Keep up your terrible sense of humor and you’ll never be one. No self respecting woman or desperate man would want to have you.” 

“So that takes you out of the running then?” Joe clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Tch. Such a shame.” 

Cherry scoffs, “Fuck you.” 

Joe’s grin can be heard a mile away, “Isn’t that what you called me for?” 

“I hate you Kojiro. So much so that the intensity of my feelings makes it hard for me to breathe.” 

Joe straightens up in his chair, his earlier words to Reki coming back full circle. “Oh yeah? Would you even go as far as to say that if your hatred for me was an ocean, it would be deep enough to drown us all?” 

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Cherry agrees. 

“Hey, can I tell you something, Kaoru?” He listens intently for that small hitch in Cherry’s breath. He purposely calls him by his given name, knowing full well that after what happened a few days ago… 

Surely enough, Cherry inhales a sharp, shallow breath before biting out, “Don’t call me that. And what is it? If I wanted to talk this much before I got fucked, I would have gone on a date.”

Switching gears, Joe becomes the opportunist his brother believed him to be earlier and he eagerly says, “Then let’s go on a date.” 

“Ha! Yeah, no,” Cherry shuts him down. “I said no to dates.” 

“Technically, you said you wouldn’t come over my place while I cooked for you and we watched shitty action movies. I’m not asking you to come over. I don’t even  _ want _ you at my place if I’m being honest.” 

“What?! Why not?” Cherry’s voice shifts, his tone becoming slightly more clipped with his annoyance. 

“Because,” Joe teasingly answers. 

“I’m coming over.” 

“Like, tomorrow?” 

“ _ Like tomorrow _ ,” Cherry mocks, “ **_Now_ ** you muscle bound asshole. You’d be  _ lucky _ to have me at your place.” 

He knows Cherry is a man of his word and he panics. He hasn’t taken a shower, he doesn’t even know if his room is clean, and it’s 11:45 so does that mean Cherry will want to have sex? 

“Uh,” Joe draws out the syllable. “I don’t have condoms.” 

“Like we’d need those. I’m not coming over for sex, you pervert. I’m coming over to talk shit about your place.” 

“You were just there like three weeks ago. You didn’t talk shit then, why talk shit now?” 

“Because I can. And I will. If I’m at your place before you are, you’re feeding me. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten in—“ Cherry catches himself, noting his mistake. 

“Cherry Blossom. When was the last time you had something to eat?” Joe’s voice is stern, but it’s not hard to miss the concern. 

Cherry sighs heavily, “The day after we...y’know.”

“I would fuss at you, but all I want to do is stuff you until you’re so full that you can’t move.” 

Cherry’s laugh is genuine. It’s a deep, melodious sound that makes Joe smile despite not knowing why. “Either you’re an idiot or you’re a master at double entendres.”

“What did I—oh. OH!” Joe slaps a hand to his forehead. “I mean, we can do that too.”

“I have a headache,” Cherry declines. 

“You called  _ me _ for sex and now  _ you  _ have a headache? I don’t remember us skipping a whirlwind courtship, a short engagement, a summer wedding, and suddenly being in year seven of marriage.” 

Water runs in the background and Cherry sounds a little farther away, slightly muffled by background noise. “I’m not getting married in summer. Spring or Fall.” 

“Duly noted. What about a proposal? Shall that come in Summer? Maybe Spring then we marry by fall?” 

“The idea of marriage both disgusts and thrills me. But a spring engagement would be nice.” 

“Mmm,” Joe hums. “I won’t have the restaurant cater since everyone here will want to attend.” 

“Why would they attend my wedding?” Cherry asks. 

“ _ Our _ wedding,” Joe corrects. 

“I’d rather die by death of a thousand cuts only to be revived by some Good Samaritan who really turns out to be an evil character straight out of a manga. He squeezes lemon juice in my cuts and because he has the ability to heal, he heals them, only to cut me again, just to squeeze lemon juice in my cuts.” 

“Dude,” Joe laughs, “I think you might actually need to see a therapist.” 

“And I think you have, from your restaurant to your home, about 20 minutes to get there. Whereas I will be there in approximately 13. I would like lasagna. Vegetarian. Meat makes me gag. AND I SWEAR TO GODS IF YOU SAY IT KOJIRO—“ 

“—I’d love to gag you with my meat babe.” 

“Fuck. You.” 

“See you soon?” 

“I’ll let myself in.” 

The call disconnects and Joe emits a low whistle before whispering, “I’m fucked.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cherry holds his breath as he weighs his options. Most likely Joe is going to confess and to do that right now would ruin whatever is happening between them. “I’m not ready.” 
> 
> “I’m not asking you to be ready. I’ve waited ten years. I’m fine with playing the long game.”
> 
> “I said no feelings.”
> 
> Joe’s only response is to lift their joined hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter! Enjoy :)

Cherry sits on the sofa with his legs tucked underneath him. He’s full, warm, and content. “So you expect me to believe that this guy flies across the world to rescue his daughter from sex trafficking...by himself?” 

Joe nods, “Yup.”

They fall into a comfortable silence as they watch a totally unrealistic high speed chase. Cherry is fully aware that he’s crossing his own boundary and for the time being, he’s fine with that. He’s always enjoyed Joe’s company. Things have been consistently easy between them since they were children. Admittedly, he did call Joe because he was having a rough night, but he’d be remiss if he said all he needed in the moment was sex. 

He really craves companionship. When he first started dating Adam, they still did things as a couple with their friends. It wasn’t soon before long that Adam began to tell Cherry he “didn’t think it was a good idea” if he went out without him. He’d mention how he needs to protect Cherry. He’d say that Cherry never noticed how other men stared at him. Cherry listened, declining offers to socialize without Adam. Soon, Adam would tell Cherry that he was also unable to go out with him. His go to excuse was “this party isn’t going to interest you” and just a plain, “You need to stay home”. Which, being an introvert, he really wouldn’t have minded having to stay home, however, Adam never stayed with him. Even when he was home, he’d leave Cherry alone, oftentimes ignoring him all together or speaking to him through Tadashi. Those were the hardest moments because he wasn’t allowed to respond. If he did, the consequences usually resulted in him being hurt. 

Joe bumping his shoulder, pulls him back to the present. “You’re missing the best part!” He points at the television. 

Cherry focuses on the screen. The main character is narrowly dodging bullets as he rushes forward to take out bad guys. Cherry turns his entire body to face his friend. “Okay, Joe. How is this realistic at all?” 

Joe scoffs, “How are your rom-coms realistic? The Notebook? No cis-gendered, heterosexual male is going to write a woman that left him, a letter a day for a year.” 

Cherry glares at Joe. “And this guy single-handedly taking down a trafficking ring  _ by himself  _ is?!”

“Shh,” Joe shushes him.

“Why do you like this?” His nose crinkles in disgust. 

Joe pauses the movie and turns to face him. “First of all, wow. Don’t disrespect Liam Neeson. Second of all, how do you  _ not _ ?!” 

Cherry rolls his eyes and reaches for the remote. “I’ve had about enough. I can’t take it anymore.” He turns off the movie and unfolds his legs from underneath him to stand. “Besides, you need to shower. You smell rank.” 

Joe sniffs himself and grimaces. “You’re right. You can leave the dishes. I’ll have Reki do them when he gets in.” Joe rises from the couch and crosses his arms over his body, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt to lift it completely off. He slings it over his shoulder and smirks. “Be back in a flash.” 

Cherry stares after Joe for a while, gaze lingering on his back before slowly traveling down long, muscular legs. He huffs an appreciative sigh, immediately blushing as he realizes he’s a little  _ too _ comfortable with Joe. Regret starts to settle in and that familiar feeling of being caged creeps in. He’s not unsafe, but he feels like he is.

He feels exposed. He’s fully clothed, but it’s what he has on that makes him feel too vulnerable. His hair is tied up in a sloppy bun, he has his glasses on due to the late hour, and he’s wearing an oversized royal blue sweatshirt and black leggings. He’s nowhere near as well put together as he usually is. It doesn’t dawn on him until  _ now _ that no one has seen him like this. Not even Joe. At least not since they were children. 

He’s more of himself now, in this moment, than he’s been in years and that terrifies him. Panic has his veins running ice cold as he freezes. He needs to get out. He can text Joe tomorrow, make up some excuse about why he had to go. But for now fear of rejection, maybe even fear of acceptance, has him moving towards the front door. He’s lacing up his shoes when Joe’s footsteps purposefully grow louder. 

Joe clears his voice, alerting Cherry to his presence. His voice is soft, tone even and volume low when he asks, “Why are you leaving? Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

Cherry hangs his head, his shoulders rising with a deep inhale and falling with his exhale. “No. I—“ he pauses, searching for a passable truth, but it’s Joe he’s dealing with. He always knew when Cherry was lying. He keeps his back turned, needing to face away to gain some semblance of courage. “I’m scared. I look terrible. It actually wasn’t entirely shitty hanging out with you tonight. I haven’t really felt comfortable just being me in years and it makes me feel—I don’t know how I feel, Kojiro. I want to feel  _ something _ other than fear or self-loathing.” He swipes at his eyes, flicking away hot tears. He turns around to face Joe, to apologize for whatever he fucked up, but he’s eased back against the wall, bracketed in by large muscular arms and held in place by a large body that smells of soap and mint shampoo. 

Joe looks down at him, his eyes dark with a look that makes Cherry’s stomach flip and his pulse race. He dips his head down, nosing along Cherry’s neck, stopping just under his earlobe. Joe’s voice is a husky whisper, “I think you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

A full body shiver passes through Cherry as he swallows thickly. “You’re full of shit.” 

“Let me prove you wrong,” Joe counters. His warm breath fans out against Cherry’s skin. His lips barely touch pale skin, each word bringing his mouth grazing over a sensitive spot. 

Cherry exhales a slow shuddering breath. His voice is shaky, “H-how?” 

Joe’s hand drifts from the wall to Cherry’s arm. His fingers lightly close around a slender wrist as he pulls it forward. “Tell me to stop at any time. Tell me you want to leave and I’ll take you home.” 

“Shut up,” Cherry whispers. He closes the distance himself as he places a trembling hand on the tent in Joe’s pajama bottoms. He stops his eyes from rolling shut, but he can’t stop from biting his lip and sucking it between his teeth. “This doesn’t mean anything,” his voice cracks. 

“Now who’s full of shit? Let me make you feel good baby,” he breathes against Cherry’s neck. “Let me take care of you.” 

Cherry can barely nod before he’s hoisted into the air and his legs wrapped around Joe’s waist. 

“I’m dying to have you, Kaoru.” Joe rocks his hips forward, slowly grinding his erection against Cherry’s hardening cock. “I’d take such good care of you.” 

His body becomes alight with pleasure as Joe keeps his lips against Cherry’s neck as they grind together slowly. He easily matches Joe pace and rhythm, biting down his lip to hold back the sounds of his mounting pleasure. 

“I want to hear you, Cherry. Please let me hear you.” Joe’s mouth finally closes onto his neck and he lightly sucks, pulling a soft moan from his partner. “Fuck. You sound so sexy,” he groans. 

Cherry’s fingers tangle in damp green waves. His cock throbs in his leggings, hips cantering forward languidly to chase friction. Joe’s body is larger than his but not smothering in the way that Adam was. 

_ No, stay present.  _

He closes his eyes and refocuses on how his body feels. His skin feels fevered already, the warmth from Joe’s palms searing through his thin leggings to brand the memory of his touch on fair skin. Each rock of hips forward has electricity coursing through his veins and his blood singing with pleasure. He feels everything so strongly and it truly feels good. For the first time in a while, he feels good. Maybe the grip tightening on his thighs or the fact that Joe actually wants him triggers him but suddenly he can’t focus.

He’s not thinking about how good Joe feels between his legs. He’s thinking about how bad other people did. He can’t stop the images that flood his mind. He can’t stop thinking about the cruel way Adam would look at him if they were in missionary. He recalls leaning in for a kiss, even explaining to Adam how kissing arouses him even more, and being told no numerous times, or being shot down with a simple, scathingly repulsed look. 

“Are you with me Cherry?” Joe’s hips have slowed considerably and he’s staring at Cherry, pupils blown wide and breathing labored as he catches his breath. 

“I want to be,” he whispers, “I’m trying really hard to be.” 

He’s easily carried from the wall to the couch where Joe sits, holding him tightly in his arms. “Do you know what you need to be okay?” 

“Don’t do it back. Okay? Just—you let me do it.” Joe nods and waits. Cherry leans in, moving slowly, and pausing when small, rushed exhalations of air brush against his parted lips. He closes his eyes, lashes fluttering shut, and he leans in, timidly pressing his mouth against Joe’s. He pulls away, bracing himself for a look of disgust, maybe even an expression of contempt, but he’s surprised to see neither of those. 

Joe has his eyes closed, still, and he’s inhaling slow, deep breaths and then exhaling just as slowly. When Cherry asks what’s wrong, Joe blinks open his eyes. His voice is gravely, deep and raw when he answers. “I’m in lo—“ 

“Kiss me,” Cherry rushes out, voice louder than Joe’s. “You want to, right? I-I want you to.” 

Once again his expectations are left unmet as Joe’s hand comes up the side of his face to lightly cup his cheek. His cheek is lightly caressed as a thumb slides back and forth over his ruddied skin. Joe sits up as he guides Cherry down, softly bringing their lips together. The gentle way that Joe holds him, the easy way in which his tongue breaks the seam of his mouth to part his lips and tentatively taste him, and how Cherry can feel his arousal pulsating between his legging clad thighs yet Joe makes no move to take things a step further all combine in a heady rush that makes him a bit lightheaded. 

He reaches up to move large hands from his face and settles them on his hips. He pushes his hips forward, urging Joe on. Hands trail under his sweatshirt, lifting the material higher, the cool air kissing his skin and causing his nipples to stiffen. When the pad of Joe’s thumb comes in contact with the small hoop going through the bud, he breaks the kiss with a bewildered look on his face. 

“I can explain,” Cherry tries to rush out. He feels like a little kid who’s about to get in trouble. “I-before I did all of this, when I was hurting I’d…” he’s cut off by Joe lifting his sweatshirt even higher to stare at his body. He holds his breath, waiting, but his sweatshirt is pulled up and off. Joe is on his feet in a flash, lifting Cherry as if he weighs nothing. 

“Explain in the morning.”

Cherry chokes out, “What?” 

“You heard me. Explain over breakfast.” 

“I said no sleeping over,” Cherry halfheartedly argues. Joe ignores him as he puts up a weak fight. 

“You also said no to a date, yet I fed you  _ and  _ got you to watch two-thirds of one of my favorite American films.” He sits Cherry on the edge of the bed. “Does watching make you feel in control or do you prefer to lie back and enjoy yourself?” 

Cherry’s brow pinches together and his eyes narrow. “What are you going on about?” Joe drops to his knees in front of Cherry and reaches up to tug his waistband down. His semi-erect cock twitches when the air hits his skin. “Oh. Wait, wait.” He puts his hand on Joe’s forehead stopping him. His cheeks burn brightly with the shame of his whispered truth, “No one has ever, uh, you know, done  _ that _ to me before.” Joe’s mouth falls open, which would have been comical to Cherry had the rush of warm breath against his cock not made him release the lewdest sounding moan. “Sorry, sorry,” he quickly apologizes. 

“Can I?” He asks softly. 

Cherry places a hand over his mouth and nods jerkily. He actually whimpers at the first lick, a slow lazy one flicked over the head of his cock. He closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing, and he’s doing quite well until Joe takes his entire length into his mouth in one go. “Ahh-gods,” he gasps loudly. His hands fly into wild, air dried hair, his fingers gripping tightly as his body curls in on itself. He’s panting, rather loudly, each forceful exhalation of air swelling to low moans as the wet, warm mouth tightens around his shaft. His hips move of their own volition, rocking up deeper into Joe’s warmth. 

Joe suddenly pulls off, making Cherry whine, but his next words make the sudden cessation of oral sex all worth it. “Remember what I said on the phone a few nights ago?” 

How could he forget?  _ “I want you to fuck my throat until I’m hoarse.”  _ His stomach tightens and clenches and he nods. 

Joe smiles up at him and reaches underneath his body to pull his leggings down and completely off. His legs are placed over broad shoulders and without any warning, once again he’s taken deeply into wet heat. He doesn’t really know what to do here, but he doesn’t dwell on it for long because his body responds on its own. He fists Joe’s hair again and pushes his hips up when the other man’s mouth slides down his length. Once an established rhythm is set, Cherry finds himself humping Joe’s face with wanton abandon. 

When Joe gags around him, Cherry swears, using words that would usually embarrass him in this context. “Oh shit. Fuck Kojiro,” he moans Joe’s given name loudly. “Are you o—ooh goddamn,” he shudders violently as he feels his head slip past the hard roof of an upper jaw and dip into the soft palate. He doesn’t want to hurt Joe by pulling his hair too hard, so he moves his hands to the bed, balling the sheets up in his fists. “Move. Move,” he rushes out with a sense of urgency. “I’m going to—“ all this does is encourage Joe to double his efforts. Wet, squelching, sloppy, sucking fills the room, almost as loudly as Cherry’s moans. He squeezes his eyes shut against the sensation building in his groin. He sucks down large gulps of air, and throws his head back in ecstasy, mouth open a long moan as he sings Joe’s name again, unabashedly loud, as he spills down the man’s throat. 

His body goes limp, falling back against the bed as he struggles to catch his breath.

“What do you want for breakfast in the morning?” Joe asks as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Cherry weakly lifts his hand and waves him away. “I can’t feel my legs and you’re worried about making me a vegetarian frittata.” 

“Frittata, got it. Shorts or pants?” 

“Shorts. And fresh squeezed orange juice.” 

Joe kneels before him again, sliding a pair of his shorts up slender legs that he kisses softly before pulling them all the way up. “A squeeze of lemon?” 

“Just a squeeze. One. Not two. I don’t know what it is with you and lemon,” Cherry yawns. 

Joe’s added weight to the mattress shifts Cherry slightly and he scoots closer, far enough away to leave space between them, but close enough for the meal planning chef to reach out and hold his hand. He doesn’t pull away. “Can I tell you something?” He asks. 

Cherry holds his breath as he weighs his options. Most likely Joe is going to confess and to do that  _ right now _ would ruin whatever is happening between them. “I’m not ready.” 

“I’m not asking you to be ready. I’ve waited ten years. I’m fine with playing the long game.”

“I said no feelings.”

Joe’s only response is to lift their joined hands. 

Cherry groans, “Fine. You get  _ one  _ feeling. And if it starts with the letter ‘L’ and is usually a feeling reserved for parents, small children, and the delivery person that comes through with your order on time, I  _ will _ beat you.” 

“Kinky,” Joe chuckles sleepily. “I want to take you on a real date.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” Cherry rolls over onto his side to stare at his best friend. The moonlight filters into the room, gently caressing Joe’s face and making him appear other-worldly, ethereally beautiful in its silver kiss. 

“Mhm,” Joe mumbles. “We can go anywhere. Doesn’t matter. I’ll even pay.” He yawns loudly and gives Cherry’s hand a soft squeeze. “Think about it, ‘kay?” 

“Okay,” Cherry whispers. “I—I’ll think about it.”

“G’night babe.” Within seconds, Joe is sound asleep like he was the one that just had his soul sucked from his cock. 

Cherry enjoys the quiet. He revels in the way Joe’s face softens even more, the laugh lines all but erased from his face. He recalls sleepovers when they were kids and giggles quietly at the memory of Joe always being the first one to fall asleep. He used to whisper secrets to Joe before he also fell asleep, telling him things that he would never tell a soul. And if Joe heard him, he never mentioned anything the next day. He feels compelled to do this now. 

“I like you,” he whispers. “A lot. Probably more than I should, given just how much I know about you. If I’m being honest, I’ve liked you since we were kids, but I couldn’t tell you because I was afraid to lose you. You’ve been the one constant in my life since we were eight and if I lose that, I’d have nothing left anchoring me here.” Cherry sighs sleepily. “If I ever work up the courage to tell you while you’re awake, you have to promise not to leave me. Promise to stay with me and I’ll be yours. G’night Joe.” 

He falls asleep fairly quickly, none the wiser to the small smile on Joe’s face. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liam Neeson is a goddamn treasure! XD


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The point is that we agreed upon ‘no feelings’ and it seems like every chance you get…” he trails off. 
> 
> Joe disagrees, pointing out, “You agreed to that. I never did.” He turns his body sideways to stare at Cherry. “I went into this knowing full well that I have had feelings for you for the past decade. I went into this knowing that there would be the chance that I would get hurt because even if you actually do love me, you wouldn’t allow yourself to say it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated! I added “end game MatchaBlossom” ☺️
> 
> Update: this chapter now includes beautiful artwork that I commissioned from nikkehym via Twitter!

Waking up in someone else’s bed is, in a sense, not new for Cherry. He’ll often sleep for an hour or two before tiptoeing out of his date’s room in the early morning hours and doing the walk of shame to catch the nearest train or cab home. He has a general rule about not staying the night. Falling asleep with someone is a very intimate act and outside of his date a few weeks ago, he _never, ever_ stays the night. 

However… 

He opens his eyes slowly, the sunlight streaming through the open blinds making his eyes narrow before they adjust to the sudden brightness. He yawns and stretches out his limbs, lengthening his torso and arching his back a bit before he settles back under the duvet, moving closer to Joe’s ridiculously warm body. His slow reaction is almost comical as he freezes, one arm thrown over Joe’s chest and his face damn near pressed into the sleeping man’s neck. He sits up suddenly, heart and mind racing as he recalls _everything_ that happened the night before. 

“Oh no,” he whispers softly. “Oh no.” He brings a palm to his forehead, shaking his head back and forth in disbelief. He wasn’t upset about the fucking around—that was _great_ . No one has ever prioritized his pleasure over their own. He has an inkling that Joe is that type of lover consistently, the belief bringing a faint blush to his cheeks and making his pulse speed up. He’s upset because _he confessed first;_ albeit to a sleeping Joe, but he broke first nonetheless. In less than a span of twenty four hours, he crossed nearly every boundary he originally set with the man before agreeing to their...situation. How can he face Joe? He’ll never take Cherry seriously. If he’s willing to cross his own boundaries, who’s to say Joe won’t begin to push, following Cherry’s lead of course, and cross more important boundaries? 

_I’ve got to get out of here._

Cherry panics, eyes rapidly flickering back and forth between the floor where his leggings are, and the bedroom door, where the living room and his sweatshirt and sneakers are. He checks the time, 10am, and his eyes widen in shock. He hasn’t slept this late since he was a teenager. This is bad. Not only did he stay the night, but he _actually_ slept. Soundly. The entire night through. He searches his brain for memory of a nightmare, they happen on a nightly basis, and when he has no recollection of one, his mouth falls open in a small ‘o’ and he exhales a low, “Oh shit.” This is bad. This is so bad. He eases the covers away from his body, taking a moment to peek underneath them to appreciate Joe’s naked form, and as quietly as he possibly can he climbs out of the bed, holding up the large pair of shorts he’s wearing by the waistband. 

He looks over his shoulder to make sure Joe is still asleep, and quickly slips out of the shorts and pulls on the leggings. They’re halfway up his legs when Joe mumbles sleepily, 

“Where’re you going Kaoru?” 

Cherry is easily startled, jumping and whipping around to glare daggers at Joe. “Why are you naked?” He hisses. “Who sleeps nude?!” 

Joe rubs at his eyes, yawning loudly as he sits up in bed. The blankets fall from his upper body and pool around his waist. He scratches at his scalp, making his bed head even messier, as a slow smile curls up the corners of his mouth. “Good morning to you too. In my defense, I asked if it was okay.” 

“When?!”

“At like 3 in the morning. It was hot. You were half asleep, but you said it was cool,” Joe shrugs. “Frittata, right?” He swings his legs over his side of the bed, turning his back to Cherry, thankfully unable to see how red the others face is, and rises, groaning softly as he stretches. He circles the bed, walking towards Cherry with no shame. 

Naked. 

And hard. 

Cherry has to repeat to himself, vehemently, to not acknowledge it. _Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look._ But he looks, eyes trailing down the length of Joe’s torso, coming to rest between his legs. 

“Sorry,” Joe chuckles. His large hands come down to _barely_ cover himself, in a too late display of modesty. “I swear this has nothing to do with you. I mean it might, but mostly it’s because my bladder is like, really, really full.” 

Cherry’s face is flushed, cheeks horridly hot as he snaps out, “I know! I was the one that paid attention in all of our classes. You did so poorly in school it’s a wonder you graduated.” 

Joe ignores the barb. “I’ll make breakfast in a few minutes. And after we eat, I’ll shower here, get dressed, and then we can go back to your place so you can get ready.” 

“Ready for what?” 

Joe’s smile is dazzling, all straight, white teeth, and sparkling eyes when he says, “For our date.” 

“Wait a minute,” Cherry sounds panicked, his voice creeping up in volume as he rushes out, “I said I’d think about it. I haven’t—“ 

“Then it’s not a date,” Joe interjects as he continues across the room to his closet. He pulls on baggy sweats and a t-shirt. “Think of it as two best friends—“

“—that’s a stretch,” Cherry scoffs.

“—two really close acquaintances,” Joe corrects, “spending time together. At an aquarium.” 

Cherry stills, narrowing his eyes at Joe. “Why an aquarium?” 

He shrugs as a sheepish grin dances across his face. “I vaguely recall my close acquaintance saying that he enjoys aquariums. He mentioned something about them giving him a sense of calm and peace.” Joe combs his fingers through his hair, tying the locks back with a hair tie that he keeps around his wrist. “Breakfast will be ready soon. You can go back to bed, watch TV, do whatever you want. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” 

Cherry watches Joe exit the room, waiting a spell before he launches into full blown panic. He searches the room for his phone, groaning internally when he realizes it’s not in the room, but still in his bag, in the living room...where Joe is. 

Stupid Joe who remembers shit Cherry said when they were kids. Stupid Joe who doesn’t push him to do things he’s not comfortable with. Stupid, stupid Joe who makes him feel safe and comfortable enough to have the first good night’s sleep he’s had in over a year. Stupidly wonderful Joe who’s currently in the kitchen, singing along with some song in a shitty falsetto as he makes Cherry _exactly_ what he wants for breakfast. 

Cherry grabs Joe’s phone from the side of the bed and dials Langa’s number. 

“Joe?” Langa’s voice is thick with sleep. 

“No. It’s me. And before you freak out, listen. I’m having a crisis,” he heatedly whispers. 

Langa sighs loudly, “You stayed the night with Joe?”

“Yes!” Cherry drops onto the bed. He pouts, actually full on bottom lip jutting out, as he says, “And he’s making me breakfast.” 

“Okay…”

“And he’s taking me to the aquarium later today.” 

“My Japanese must be bad. Mom tried to work with me before I came to live with you. I’m not understanding. You said you were in a crisis right?”

“Yes!”

“Well, what is it? The crisis?” 

Cherry pauses a moment, and rushes out in a single breath, “IconfessedtoJoefirst.”

Cherry can hear the sound of Langa shifting in bed. “I’m sorry, it sounds like you just said, ‘I confessed to Joe first’.”

“I...did,” Cherry groans, “He was asleep, but I did it.” 

A voice in the background is muffled, yet still discernible when it says, “You owe me 10 dollars dude.” 

Cherry pounces on the opportunity to take the heat from himself and place it on Langa. “It sounds like you _just_ woke up. And unless I’m hearing things, it sounds like _someone_ has a visitor. Who, pray tell, is my little cousin having sleepovers with?”

“I’ll tell you if you actually confess to Joe while he’s awake.” 

“Some things are better left private.” 

“Exactly,” Langa agrees. “So, you like him? You can finally admit that?” 

“I like him in the same way my mother likes my father.” 

Langa points out, “They’ve been married for almost thirty years—oh my god. You’re saying you _love Joe?!_ ”

“No!” Cherry objects rather emphatically. “I’m saying I like him in the same way that my parents like each other.” 

“Your parents have a healthy, loving, relationship.” 

“And?” 

“And you want to have that with Joe?” 

“I—maybe?” Cherry whispers. “But I can’t.”

“Because…”

Cherry gripes, “What are you, my psychotherapist?! I don’t _know_ Langa. Maybe because I’m fucked up. Broken? So damaged beyond repair that I’m calling my _eighteen year old_ cousin for love advice?”

“So you do love him.”

Cherry covers his face with his hand and mumbles a soft, “Of course I do. I don’t know when I fell for him, but it’s terrifying. I can’t do this. I’m terrible at relationships. What if he leaves me?” 

“You’ve been in one relationship. You weren’t terrible at it. He was terrible to you. And Joe hasn’t left you yet. Hasn’t he been by your side at your lowest point? Hasn’t he been there to lift you up and support you when you needed it most?” 

“Yes but—“

“And he already knows how you are.”

“He—he told me he was fine with playing the long game.” 

“Then go at the pace that’s comfortable for you. But don’t reject him before you earnestly give him a chance.”

“How are you this wise at 18?” 

Langa laughs softly, a hint of sadness tinging his chuckle, “Losing dad made me mature.”

Cherry softly replies, “He was a good man.” 

“I know. But hey, have fun today, okay? I’ll be gone when you get in. I have plans. See you tonight. Oh! Unless you’re staying over at Joe’s again.” 

Before Cherry can fuss at Langa, Joe comes back to the room to mouth that breakfast was done. “Shut up. I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.” 

*******

Cherry usually dresses in traditional style clothing, but there are rare occasions when he wears more of a modern style. Today was one of the occasions. 

He double checks his hair and is happy with the side braids that he joined together over his pink locks in a bun in order to keep it pulled back and out of his face. He triple checks his outfit, finding no flaws in the black linen pants that stop at his ankles, and smoothing over non-existent wrinkles in his white v-neck casual kimono style shirt. He starts to put in contacts, but stops himself, opting for his glasses instead. 

It’s not a date, right? He doesn’t _need_ to go all out and try to impress Joe. They’re just two friends, who are spending time together today. At one of Cherry’s favorite places. That he hasn’t mentioned to Joe since they were 17. 

_It’s not a date._

Joe’s voice calling his name from the living room causes him to jump, startling him out of his thoughts. “Cherry? You ready?”

He wants to yell back no, say he’s suddenly come down with something, but he hears Langa’s reassuring words from earlier and with a deep breath, he straightens up, squares his shoulders back, sets his mouth in a determined line, and stomps out of his bedroom. He walks past Joe, avoiding his gaze, and stops by the front door to change from his house shoes into his sneakers. He unlocks the front door and turns to face Joe with a blank expression that belies the queasiness he truly feels. 

“Well?” Cherry gestures to the open front door. 

Joe gives a subtle shake of his head and rushes forward, slipping back on his sneakers. He’s definitely more into a Western style of clothing. The tight jeans and short sleeve black and beige color block shirt work well on him. He’s also an avid sneaker collector, and Cherry admires the matching Nike’s Joe has on. His hair, usually unkempt, is held back by a thin black headband and it looks… 

“Nice,” Cherry mutters, his cheeks heating up as he struggles to pay Joe a compliment for probably the first time in their 17 year friendship. “You look nice.” 

Joe freezes, eyes widening before they narrow. His voice is serious, and Cherry almost misses the sarcasm when he asks, “Did you just compliment me? Who are you and what have you done with Cherry Blossom?” 

“Shut up,” Cherry snaps. “Your shirt clashes terribly with your hair.” 

“There he is,” Joe happily chirps. “Are you okay with walking to the aquarium? It’s about 2.4 kilometers from here.” 

Cherry blanches at the idea of sharing a cab and getting sly glances from the cab driver when Joe says, because he definitely will, that they’re going to the aquarium. On a date. “Walking is fine.” 

“Are you sure you can handle being exposed to the elements the entire time?” Joe teases. “Your fair skin might blister immediately under the sun's warmth.”

Cherry locks the door behind them and glares over at Joe. “Are you trying to get to me to no longer agree to this asinine idea of us hanging out together?” 

“No take backs,” Joe calls over his shoulder as he walks down the flight of stairs. He turns around to grin up at Cherry when he reaches the bottom. “You’re a man of your word.” His grin falters as he lowers his eyes. “Would you really break my heart by standing me up for our first not date?” When he lifts his gaze, he’s doing his best puppy-dog eyes. 

Cherry, not one to fall for his bullshit, pushes his face out of the way as he walks past Joe. “I’m not some big titted bimbo, Kojiro. Your sad eyes don’t work on me.”

Joe falls in step alongside Cherry. “As a member of the big titted community, I have to say that it’s rather hurtful of you to assume we’re all empty-headed.”

“Oh, I don’t assume that about you,” Cherry corrects. 

“Alright!” Joe starts to cheer. 

“I _know_ that about you,” he teases. 

“What do people say about the man who goes on not dates with the big titted and empty headed?” Joe ponders aloud. He inhales a sharp breath, gasping loudly, “I bet they’ll think we’re out together on some type of dare. Or that you’re shallow,” he jokes. 

“I loathe you,” Cherry mumbles. 

“I love you too,” Joe singsongs the last word. 

Their walk is filled with scathing banter that’s typical of their time together. It dies off when they reach the Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium. Cherry reaches for his wallet when they reach the ticket booth and Joe eases him aside. He pays for the tickets without complaint. 

“Sea Turtles first?” Joe casually asks. 

“How do you remember this stuff?” Cherry inquires as they walk into the cool aquarium. “I haven’t mentioned the aquarium in 7 years.” 

Joe shrugs, “I remember what’s important to me.” 

Heat blooms in twin circles just under the surface of Cherry’s cheeks. “Me mentioning my love of marine life is not important.” 

“Maybe not to you, but it is to me. Come on,” Joe reaches for his hand, fingers easily closing around his as they walk forward. 

He fights the urge to pull away from the contact as he’s led forward. They enter the corridor where the acrylic window for the sea turtle exhibit is. Cherry has always loved the way the sunshine filters in from above, illuminating the dark room in a cyan glow. His anxiety begins to melt away the deeper he moves into the corridor. Like a small child, he finds himself against the glass, hand pressed to the cool surface, and leaning in to look up to see all of the magnificent turtles that are swimming in their habitat. He watches, in awe, as they dive and cut through the water with a graceful ease. He can feel Joe’s presence beside him, but he doesn’t turn away from the glass. 

There’s a softness to his voice, one that even he hasn’t heard in years, as he says, “I admire how free they seem. There’s a certain level of security that you have to cultivate and maintain in order to be so carefree.” 

Joe hums softly before pointing out, “You’re like that. You have that same sense of unbridled freedom. It’s one of the things that I love about you.” 

Cherry inhales a breath and holds it in his lungs for a spell before exhaling through his nostrils. He doesn’t turn to look at Joe. He can’t. He focuses on the turtles paddling through the water. “Why are you so comfortable with freely expressing your feelings for me even though there’s the possibility that they’ll never be reciprocated?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be comfortable? I’ve shared things with you that I’ve never told another soul Cherry. If I can’t tell the person I’m in love with that I love them, then what’s the point?” 

“The point is that we agreed upon ‘no feelings’ and it seems like every chance you get…” he trails off. 

Joe disagrees, pointing out, “You agreed to that. I never did.” He turns his body sideways to stare at Cherry. “I went into this knowing full well that I have had feelings for you for the past decade. I went into this knowing that there would be the chance that I would get hurt because even if you actually do love me, you wouldn’t allow yourself to say it.” 

“Then why? Why are you so patient with me? So kind, caring, and gentle even though I can’t be the same things to you?” 

“It’s not a matter of can’t, babe. You won’t let yourself be that way with anyone, and I get it. I truly do. I’m happy with you and what we have now. The only thing that’s changed between us is I get to be the one to touch you in ways that I’ve been dying to for years.” He shrugs a shoulder noncommittally. “And I’m good with that.” 

Cherry finally turns to stare at Joe, tears brimming in his eyes as he softly asks, “What if I’m not? What if--I want more--but I don’t know how to ask or what that more could be? What if I’m afraid because--” 

Joe interjects, finishing his sentence, quoting him word for word, “I’ve been the one constant in your life since we were eight and if you lost that, you’d have nothing left anchoring you here?”

“You were awake?!” 

A sheepish grin and a soft blush are easily visible despite the lack of interior lighting. “Maybe.” 

Cherry reaches out to smack Joe’s arm, fussing through his tears, “Then why didn’t you say anything, asshole?” 

He rubs his arm as he retorts, “Why do you assume I’d leave you adrift?” 

“Who in their right mind would want to be with me? I--I can’t sleep most nights, I want to eat but I struggle to do so sometimes, I have nightmares--which is probably why I struggle to sleep, you purposefully make your footsteps louder so you don’t scare me, you believe you have to ask before you touch me, the thought of sex repulses me sometimes, and I’m pretty terrible at articulating my feelings. I’m not exactly a prize.” 

“You knew I was doing that on purpose?” Joe’s brows knit together, his head tilting slightly. 

“Of course I did Kojiro. I’m not stupid. But that’s besides the point. I’m--broken. And I doubt I’ll ever be whole again. You deserve someone so much better than me.” 

“I don’t want anyone else Kaoru. I’ve always wanted you.” 

Cherry finds himself asking a question he’s been holding on the tip of his tongue for the past few weeks. “Why?” 

Joe moves in closer, mindful of his proximity to the emotional man. “Why not? You don’t see what I see when I look at you. I see strength; an undeniable and unshakeable strength. I see a beauty that is much more than just outward appearance. Although, the outward appearance is not too shabby either.” Cherry laughs, a watery sound, and smacks his arm again. “I don’t see a victim when I look at you. I never did. I’ve always seen a survivor. For you to have endured what you did and still find the courage to leave? I admire you so much for that. You’re courageous. You’re--” 

Cherry grabs him the hem of his shirt, pulling him in to close the small gap between them. He looks up at Joe and whispers, “Shut up,” before he leans in, gently bringing their lips together. 

*******

“So are you two official?” Langa asks. They’re seated at the kotatsu, Cherry working on a few projects he put off over the past few weeks and Langa scrolling through his phone. 

He doesn’t know how to answer that question. Since the “not date” at the aquarium, Cherry has spent nearly every other day with Joe. Sometimes they’ll go out to a restaurant, a movie, maybe even go on a walk if Cherry is insistent about doing something that isn’t monetarily driven. Oftentimes they’ll do what they’ve always done for the past two years; he'll go to the restaurant to needle Joe and taste test new dishes. He’s been able to re-establish a few boundaries, outlining that he’s okay with hand holding and kissing, but he’s not ready to stay the night again. He knows Joe is patient when it comes to sex, but he still felt the need to let him know their previous arrangement still stands. He just doesn’t really feel the need to use Joe in that way. Not yet, at least. The nights are still the hardest for him but knowing that he’s able to call Joe and engage in conversation about the most mundane things has been working for him just as well. He’s embarrassed to admit, but there were even a few times when he asked Joe to stay on the phone with him until he fell asleep. The morning after, he expected the call to have been disconnected, but he finds that Joe is still there, asleep as well. 

“We’re--on a trial run,” Cherry finally answers. 

“But you told him how you feel?” 

He hasn’t. 

“I don’t know how to. How do I tell him that I more than likely am in love with him?” 

Langa snickers, “By leaving out the ‘more than likely’.” 

Cherry kicks his knee, smirking when the older teen winces. “Don’t be an asshole. You know what I mean.” 

“Just… tell him. Love isn’t complicated. It’s scary and exhilarating, and it makes me want to throw up most days, but it’s not complicated.” 

“I don’t want to be nauseous most days. Wait a minute,” Cherry peers over at Langa from the top of his glasses. “It makes _you_ want to throw up most days?” 

Langa’s blush is bright. He stammers out quickly, “I mean, I’ve heard that the overwhelming feeling of being in love can make one nauseated.” 

“Then who would want to be in love if that’s how it feels?” Cherry doesn’t push, affording Langa his privacy. When he’s ready, he’ll share about his love life. Cherry has no doubt about that. 

“Love feels different to everyone, doesn’t it?” 

Cherry falls into a contemplative silence. He thought he was in love with Adam. He did anything that was asked of him, often in the attempt to gain his favor. But Adam was a cruel winter whereas Joe was a warm summer breeze. Cherry wilted and died with Adam and Joe tended to him, bringing him back to life little by little. The contrasts are stark and he can’t help drawing comparisons despite not wanting to. 

Usually eloquent with words, he finds himself struggling to articulate the depth of his feelings. “He makes me feel safe,” He finally states. “I want to be more of myself around him and that scares me, but it’s kind of...nice, at the same time. I’m not afraid of him. And that’s…nice.” 

Langa’s smile is lopsided and a little dopey. “I think you should tell him that.” 

Cherry hums softly as he taps a finger to his chin. “He is supposed to stop by after work. Maybe,” his skin heats, turning a shade of pink that rivals his hair, “Maybe I’ll tell hi—“ the intercom buzzes, cutting him off, and he looks at Langa, confused. “Are you having company?” 

Langa shakes his head. “Maybe it’s a package?” 

“Possibly,” Cherry sounds skeptical as he rises. He holds down the receiver for the intercom. “Yes?” A deep, velvet voice makes his blood run cold and his heart dip into his stomach. 

“Good evening, my precious Blossom. I know I’ve taught you better than this. Open the door.”

Langa recognizes the voice. He sees the way Cherry is frozen in place, chest rising and falling as he sucks down ragged, uneven breaths. “You don’t have to—“ The sound of the door unlocking has Langa on his feet in a flash. He’s not fast enough, though. 

Cherry is on autopilot as the door creaks open slowly. His head is bowed under the weight of his fear. His mouth runs dry as he takes in expensive, Italian leather dress shoes. 

“Look at me.”

His head snaps up immediately. 

Langa’s voice is barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears. “Reki? Listen, I need you to tell Joe to get over here immediately. Yeah. Yes he is. Okay. Bye.” 

A mouth twists into a brutal smile, flashing sharp canines and unnaturally white teeth. Ruby red eyes are void of any emotion, his smile falling extremely short of reaching them. His hair is neat and pristine, as it always is, and his suit is signature royal blue. “It’s been too long,” Adam drawls slowly. “Two years too long.” 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You didn’t tell him, did you?” Adam laughs loudly. “Here,” he rummages in a discarded messenger bag and pulls a large manila envelope out, extending it towards Joe. 
> 
> “What the fuck is this?” 
> 
> Adam taunts, “I see Kaoru is still adept at telling half truths and keeping secrets.” 
> 
> “Don’t Shindo. Please? Not-not like this,” Cherry whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, sexual assault is mentioned, but not discussed in detail at all!

Joe has a very strict policy regarding the use of phones during rush hours. His staff are well aware of this and happily oblige due to his typically easy going nature. So, color him confused when Reki takes out his phone  _ twice _ in the span of a few minutes. 

Joe scoffs, “Seriously, dude?” He pauses in the kitchen, staring at his little brother. 

“Sorry, I know, but uh, Langa knows not to call when I’m working and he’s called twice already. What if something is wrong?” He looks down at his ringing phone and back up at Joe, worry lines thinly etched in the small space between his brows. 

“Make it quick,” Joe snaps. He maneuvers around Reki, slipping past his bustling staff to deliver several entrees to his dinner guests. He chats with a few of the regulars, asking about their children, grandchildren, and updates about their day to day lives. A few of them inquire about his life, stating they have the “perfect person” for him. He’s polite, laughing lightly and declining the offer gently. He already has the perfect person. 

Things between him and Cherry have been going well. Which means that he doesn’t get smacked with the fan as often when he hugs, kisses, or holds his best friend’s hand. He’s reiterated that he’s more than fine with moving at a pace that Cherry feels most comfortable, and honestly, he can see the benefit in taking things at an easier, unrushed pace. Despite them seemingly taking things slow, Cherry still wanted to uphold the terms of their prior arrangement and to be quite honest, the man could have asked Joe to walk across burning coals for him on a daily basis and he would have, if it meant that Joe would be able to have more of those quiet moments where a quick kiss is pressed to the corner of his mouth or slender fingers enclose around his own first. He’d do anything to see Kaoru happy and he’s beyond ecstatic and completely grateful that he’s one of the reasons  _ why  _ the man is happier these days. 

He returns to the kitchen just as Reki is exiting. He notices the teen’s pallor is pale, bordering on a sickly green as they make eye contact. Joe’s heart drops into his stomach and the dirty dishes in his hands clink together gently. “What?” 

“You have to promise me you won’t do something rash first,” Reki pleads. He takes the dishes from Joe and sets them on the stainless steel countertop. 

“This isn’t helping me  _ not  _ want to do something ‘rash’. What’s wrong? You said Langa called you twice…” he trails off. There’s a small part of him that  _ knows _ . 

“It’s Adam. He—“ 

Joe doesn’t wait for Reki to finish. He’s eerily calm as he unties his apron, dropping it where he stands, before heading back to his office to grab his helmet and keys. He returns to the kitchen and drops the keys to the restaurant on the counter in front of his brother. “Lock the doors at closing. Even if we have a few customers in here. Tell Higa chances are I won’t be coming to work tomorrow and I need him to open even though he closed.”

Reki reaches out to grab his bicep. “Wait! You can’t—“

He pulls his arm away from Reki. “Who’s going to stop me?” 

“No one!” Desperation and fear have Reki’s voice increasing in volume. “You can’t go without me. I-I know he’s your best friend, but he’s been in my life just as long.” 

“Fine. Grab the extra helmet.” Joe’s anger is akin to an impending storm. His rage is reminiscent of the dark clouds on the horizon, his pseudo sense of calm unnerving those around him as they catch glimpses of a tightening jaw muscle and the way he’s clenching and unclenching his fists. He’s never been one that’s easily prone to anger, wanting to settle issues before they escalate, but when he’s pushed, he becomes almost unrecognizable. 

Reki appears beside him, extra helmet in hand. From the restaurant to Cherry’s apartment is a ten minute ride, maybe a bit longer depending on traffic. He doesn’t have longer than ten minutes. He’s seen how Cherry responds to mere memories of Adam. He doesn’t want to think about how the man is responding in the presence of that piece of shit. 

He speeds through the busy streets, splitting lanes and weaving in and out of traffic. Usually Reki would yell at him to slow down, but his little brother’s arms tighten around his waist in a silent plea for him to go faster, get there faster,  _ get there.  _

He’s been  _ waiting _ for the opportunity to beat Shindo within an inch of his miserable, worthless life. He’s never liked the smug prick; not when they all first met in middle school and definitely not when he noticed how the blue haired fuck treated Cherry early on in their relationship. However, when Cherry asked him to be kind to Shindo, to give him a chance, he tried, for the sake of his friendship. He tried until the first time he noticed the bruises on Cherry’s wrist. It took several of the staff to push him into his father’s office and barricade the door with their bodies so he couldn’t leave. Despite him yelling that he “just wants to talk to Adam”, no one believed him. Which was for the best. But today? There would be no pretense of him just wanting to talk. Today he’s out for blood. 

He barely kills the ignition on his bike before he’s hoping off and taking the stairs two at a time. He doesn’t knock on the door, he doesn’t  _ need  _ to. It’s wide open and he can see the light blue of Langa’s hair as he steps in between an immobilized Cherry and the asshole in the expensive suit. The closer he gets to the doorway, he can hear Langa vacillating between pleading with his cousin to close the door and angrily spitting out vitriol in French. Once Langa spies Joe, his pinched brow smooths out and his shoulders drop from underneath his ears. Langa barely has time to step out of the way and pull Cherry back before Joe lunges forward, tackling Adam around his knees. 

His heart hammers wildly in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears as his vision tunnels. All he can see, all he does see, is Cherry’s pained expression the multiple times he snuck him to the hospital in the past. The proverbial thunder roars and lightning claps as he recalls the abject look of terror on Kaoru’s face any time he’s triggered. His rage flows from his fists with the same speed and ferocity of a sudden torrential downpour. 

“Kojiro, no!” Reki yells. He rushes forward, but pauses, fully aware of the consequences of intervening when Joe snaps. 

Joe’s knuckles ache, the skin splitting as they come in repeated contact with a cheekbone, swollen eye, and busted lip. His hands close around Adam’s throat, but before he can cross the line from a well deserved ass whooping to attempted murder, Adam’s voice rings out in a garbled laughter demanding, 

“Call him off Kaoru.  _ NOW.” _

Cherry seems to snap out of his stupor. In a paper thin whisper he says, “Kojiro.” 

Joe’s breath is forcibly exhaled in large bursts, his chest rising and falling as he comes back to himself. Reki and Langa rush in to pull him away from a bloodied Adam. “Are you hurt?” He asks Cherry. He gives a little shake of his head, avoiding eye contact. “Good.” Joe pulls away from the two boys who are struggling to restrain him and just as Adam rises to his feet, he punches him in the jaw again, smiling cruelly as perfect teeth clack together. “You son of a bitch! I should kill you where you stand!”

“And make things impossibly difficult for the love of your life?” Adam winces as he spits a bit of blood to the side. His face is bruised and swelling quickly, but he still has a refined air about him. 

“What do you mean?” Joe takes pause looking between Adam and Cherry. Cherry’s face is blank, his eyes empty as he stares over at Joe. 

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” Adam laughs loudly. “Here,” he rummages in a discarded messenger bag and pulls a large manila envelope out, extending it towards Joe. 

“What the fuck is this?” 

Adam taunts, “I see Kaoru is still adept at telling half truths and keeping secrets.” 

“Don’t Shindo. Please? Not-not like this,” Cherry whispers. 

Langa asks the question that’s on Joe’s mind, “What’s going on Cherry?” 

Adam blots at his bleeding lip with his handkerchief as he chuckles. “I wanted to come deliver the news personally. Our divorce is finalized. Fitting our marriage would be dissolved on our 5th anniversary.” 

“Divorce?” Reki echoes. 

“You’re  _ married?! _ ” Joe recoils, the world suddenly tilting and spinning wildly. His stomach rolls and burns with nausea. 

“I was going to tell you,” Cherry defends. “The timing wasn’t right. It—“

Static builds in Joe’s ears, his vision blurring and swimming as he turns on his heels to leave. He can hear someone, probably Reki, yelling for him to stop. He doesn’t. He continues down the steps, passing his bike, and turns the corner, the distance between Cherry and himself growing exponentially wider with each step forward. 

*******

The first few days his phone rang, he would at least check the caller ID. When he saw it was Cherry, he fought every urge to answer. He wanted an explanation, felt he was owed one, but his anger, his frustration, his pain was too great to listen to lies and half-truths. By the fifth day, he turned his phone off. 

The sixth day, Cherry came into the restaurant. 

“Can we talk?” 

“No.” 

That was the extent of their conversation. 

However, Cherry didn’t leave. He sat at the bar, his golden eyes following Joe’s every movement. So, Joe left early. He wasn’t doing whatever this was at his restaurant. 

By the seventh day, Reki is involved. 

“Have you at least spoken to him?” His little brother asks. 

Joe snaps, “What is there to say?” 

The two of them are at home, Joe cooking dinner while Reki works on studying for entrance exams. He took a year to go to cram school to improve his chances of getting into university and on days off from the restaurant, he’s either studying or… 

Joe finally puts two and two together. “You and Langa?” 

“Yeah,” Reki admits. “For a while now. At least a few months.” 

“Is everyone hiding shit from me?!” Joe exclaims angrily. 

“Probably,” Reki shrugs. “But my love life doesn’t need to be public knowledge. You’re not upset about that. You’re upset about—“

Joe whips the spoon out of the pot of homemade sauce and points it at Reki. “Don’t,” he warns. “I don’t need you trying to tell me how to fix this. Okay? You don’t understand.” 

“You’re right,” Reki sighs. He closes his study materials and pushes them aside to prop his elbows up on the table. He puts a fist under his chin and looks over at Joe. “I don’t understand. I’ve really been trying for the past week. Hell, it’s all Langa and I have been talking about. Why are you so upset?” 

“Because he fucking lied to me,” Joe grumbles. He resumes stirring the sauce, using preparing dinner as a distraction. “He could have said something a long time ago.” 

“And if this was your reaction, then what? Did you even see how he looked when all that shit went down? I’ve never seen him look so terrified. I’m not even sure if he was  _ there _ , y’know? The lights were on but nobody was home.” 

Joe turns the flame down and covers the pot. He wipes his hands on the towel hanging from the waistband of his jeans and leans against the kitchen counter, folding his arms over his chest. “Why would my reaction dictate how he behaves?” 

“Because,” Reki grabs his phone and scans the screen quickly, “Langa says he has something called Post-traumatic stress disorder. He says it’s a mental and emotional health condition that people who have directly experienced harm, implied threats of harm, or those who witness others being harmed can develop. He-he says that Cherry has been struggling with almost all of the symptoms.” 

“Once again, I ask, what does that have to do with my reaction to being lied to for  _ years _ ?”

Reki’s anger surprises Joe. “Because, you idiot, you fly off the handle when you get angry and it’s absolutely terrifying. He was abused for  _ years _ . Do you really think he’d be able to tell you, the stereotypical hot-headed male, that he was married at 19?”

“He could have…”

“And then what? You shut him out for days like you are now?” Reki scrubs a hand down his face. “I get that you’re hurt, Kojiro. But can you imagine how he’s feeling? You told him you love him, that you’re fine with playing the long game, and instead of showing him all of that right now and communicating about your fucking feelings, you turn off your phone and literally ignore him. That’s kinda fucked up, bro.” 

Joe fires back, “What about how I feel?! He didn’t ask—“

Reki cuts him off, loudly interrupting, “—You didn’t let him! How can you say you love someone yet when they need you the most, when you need them the most, you pull away?” 

“Because…” he has no good reason. He can find no excuse other than being so deeply hurt by the omission of truth. “I tell him  _ everything _ .” 

“And you know he’s always been the type to keep some things to himself until he’s ready.”

“This is different.”

“How? Does it change how you feel about him? Do you not love him anymore? Do you think so little of him that you have no problem with answering a call or responding to a text?” 

His fists ball at his side. “You know that’s not how it is.” 

“Yeah? Well he doesn’t.” Reki stands and reaches the door just as a sharp knock sounds. “Hey,” his voice softens and a small smile is evident in his tone. 

“Hey,” Langa replies. “Is he, uh, still scary mad like a week ago?” 

“Nah, he controls his temper when he cooks. Believes that cooking when angry affects the taste of the food or something ridiculous like that.” 

The front door closes and before Joe can contemplate fratricide, Reki and Langa breeze past him and into the teens room, door slamming shut behind them. 

“Fucking kid,” Joe shakes his head. 

Cherry stands awkwardly in the entrance, long hair unkempt and free, hanging in his face like a sheer pink curtain. 

Joe’s concern outweighs his anger. “Did you eat?” 

Cherry shakes his head. “Not since…” he catches himself and softly says, “No.” 

Joe doesn’t answer him. He grabs a dish from the cabinet and plates Cherry a small serving of alfredo, shrimp and sauce on the side. “Eat.”

“Are we going to—“ 

“Not until you eat.”

Joe cleans the kitchen in silence as Cherry picks at his meal. They’ve never had a fight that lasted this long. Not when Joe cut Cherry’s hair when they were playing barber and not when Cherry knocked over Joe’s first bike. This doesn’t feel good to him. He’s felt hollow, numb even, for a week. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Joe breaks the silence. 

“I was afraid. I-I was young and stupid and I believed that if we were married, he would  _ have _ to treat me better. And he did for a while but-but then things got worse overnight, it seemed. How was I supposed to tell you, the one person who looks at me and  _ doesn’t  _ see my mistakes, that I made the biggest mistake ever?”

Joe dries his hands and turns to face Cherry. His heart drops when he sees him flinch at the sudden movement. “Just like how you’re telling me now.”

“It’s not that simple Joe,” Cherry sniffs. “You don’t understand how embarrassing it is. You don’t understand the immense shame I still carry. Or the guilt I struggle with daily. I have to constantly remind myself that it’s not my fault, that I didn’t do anything to deserve it...it’s exhausting and some days, my voice isn’t loud enough and it’s  _ his _ voice I hear.”

Joe interjects, “You don’t have to—“

“But I do,” Cherry cries. “No one ever lets me talk about it.” He wipes away his tears with the back of his hand. “I know that you all do it out of concern for me and I appreciate that so much, but maybe  _ I need  _ to talk about it. As much as it hurts to get out, it’s that much worse to hold in.” 

“Okay,” Joe softly says. “Okay, I’m listening.” He pulls a chair out and sits across from Cherry. He holds his tongue as he listens to Cherry detail how and why he and Adam got married. He bites back his anger when Cherry talks about when the abuse started. He does his best to maintain his composure when he learns just how bad the forced isolation was, but he can’t control the tears when Cherry mentions the  _ first  _ time he was sexually assaulted. 

“He told me I had no right to say no because I was his husband.” 

Cherry talked for hours, it seemed, and Joe listened. 

“I had no idea,” Joe finally says once Cherry falls silent. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Cherry shrugs. 

“I could have given you a chance to explain yourself.” 

“I also could have told you before…” Cherry trails off, his face reddening. 

“Before would have been ideal,” Joe chuckles wryly. 

“I’m sorry, Kojiro,” Cherry bows his head as he apologizes. “I hurt you. And that was never my intention.” 

Joe pushes his chair back and stands, circling around the table to squat next to Cherry. He reaches for the slender fingers that have eagerly been reaching for his first as of late, and brings them to his mouth, kissing them softly. “Can you look at me?” Cherry shakes his head and Joe doesn’t push. “We’re both going to fuck up. We’re both going to do and say things that hurt each other, but the differences are that it won’t be done intentionally, I’ll never hurt you physically, and we can  _ always _ repair. Okay?” Cherry nods and Joe reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “I love you Sakurayashiki Kaoru. I always have and I always will.” 

Cherry lifts his head and pulls his hands free to wipe away his tears. With a shaking voice he  _ finally _ admits, “I love you, Nanjo Kojiro.” 

“IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME,” Reki and Langa yell from the bedroom. 

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey,” Joe cups his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones as he gently tilts Cherry’s head back in order to make eye contact. “Do you trust me?”
> 
> It’s a simple question, but fuck is it a loaded one. He knows Joe isn’t simply asking about right now in this specific moment. He can see it in those beautiful honey red eyes. They’re searching for a hidden truth that needs to be uncovered. They’re searching for the promise of a lifetime spent together; one spent growing older together, poking fun at one another, a spring engagement, a summer wedding. 
> 
> “June,” Cherry answers. 
> 
> The confusion is evident on Joe’s face even in the dark foyer. “Huh?” 
> 
> “A spring engagement, June wedding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day! :)

The heat feels oppressive, making Cherry sigh loudly as his thin pajamas cling uncomfortably to his body. He’s tired, drifting in and out of sleep, only to be snatched away from completely succumbing to slumber as his mind replays his confession. 

_ I love you, Nanjo Kojiro.  _

He does. He’s known that for years. He’s always felt undeserving of Joe’s attention, the gentle care he displays, and the intensity with which he loves, but slowly over time, Cherry has realized Joe has been a shining light cutting through the dense fog of his past to guide him safely ashore.He’s been lost for years, unsure of where to go, how to feel, if it was even okay to feel what he did, and each time the darkness nearly consumed him, each time he wanted to give up, Joe was there, offering a smile, a touch, silence, his body… 

The hour is late, he knows this. The moon hangs heavy in the sky casting its luminous silver glow into the apartment. He rolls over onto his side, sighing softly. A week has gone by since he’s admitted his feelings and since then, due to a tight deadline with work and getting caught up on projects he had gotten behind on, he barely had time to speak to Joe, let alone see him. Their conversations have mainly been quick text messages and an occasional phone call that ended with Cherry hissing at Joe to shut up as he loudly declared, “I’m talking to my boyfriend!” when someone in the background asked what he was doing. 

Cherry reaches for his phone and dials Joe’s number. Despite it being nearly three am, his voice is clear of any drowsiness as he picks up. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Hearing his voice has Cherry’s lip twitching into a soft smile, but he keeps an even tone as he replies, “You never asked me to be your boyfriend. Or if I was okay with such a juvenile term. We aren’t in high school, Kojiro.”

“So what you’re saying is, you  _ want  _ me to ask you to date exclusively?” 

“I’m saying, we haven’t discussed titles.” 

Joe chuckles, “Okay. We can discuss titles at a more appropriate hour of the day. Unless,” his voice dips, tone shifting to one that makes Cherry’s stomach tighten with a quickly spreading heat, “you called me for another reason?” 

He swallows thickly, barely any heat behind his words as he snaps, “Shut up.” 

“You’re the only man I know that calls someone  _ just  _ to tell them to shut up.” 

“I didn’t call for that,” he insists. “I called because I—“ 

Joe interrupts, “—Miss me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Wait, you do?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Cherry yawns. “I haven’t seen you in a week. Which means I’ve been eating convenience store food, or take out, or Langa’s cooking, which is not that bad once I successfully convinced him that gravy doesn’t need to go on everything.” Joe’s laugh makes him smile. It always has. “You sound surprised to know that I miss you, Kojiro.”

“Not surprised, just grateful. That and I was counting on your shitty sleeping schedule.”

“Oh? For what reason?” 

“I’ve been thinking—“

“—I hope you didn’t hurt yourself—“ 

“Asshole,” Joe snorts. “I’ve been thinking about this arrangement.” 

Cherry’s stomach twists. He knew at some point one of them was going to redefine the boundaries in their relationship and that it could possibly mean that their arrangement would be altered until they clearly defined exactly what they were to the other. “Oh…” 

“Mhm,” Joe hums. “I wonder if it works both ways.” 

Cherry’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

A soft knock at his door has him sitting up quickly. 

“Open the door and find out.” 

Cherry quietly slips out of his room and pads across the living room to the front door. He barely has it pulled open before an arm is snaking around his waist and a hand coming up to his cheek to pull him in for a kiss. He mumbles against Joe’s mouth, “Make it quick, the guy I’m in love with is on his way over.” 

A light laugh bubbles up from Joe’s chest. “You’re the worst.” 

“Says the man who shows up on my doorstep at 1am, unannounced, wanting to fuck.” 

“No,” Joe shakes his head. “You’ve got it all wrong.” He pulls Cherry flush against his body as he steps completely into the apartment. “I’ve never wanted to fuck you.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“Hush.” The door is nudged shut by Joe’s foot. “I want to make love to you.” 

Cherry’s blood burns in his veins, sending a quick flush spreading from his cheeks into his neck. “I—“ his mind races as he struggles to form simple sentences. He’s never done that before. He doesn’t know  _ how _ to. Is there even a difference? “I’ve never—what if I’m not—“ 

“Hey,” Joe cups his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones as he gently tilts Cherry’s head back in order to make eye contact. “Do you trust me?”

It’s a simple question, but fuck is it a loaded one. He knows Joe isn’t simply asking about right now in this specific moment. He can see it in those beautiful honey red eyes. They’re searching for a hidden truth that needs to be uncovered. They’re searching for the promise of a lifetime spent together; one spent growing older together, poking fun at one another, a spring engagement, a summer wedding. 

“June,” Cherry answers. 

The confusion is evident on Joe’s face even in the dark foyer. “Huh?” 

“A spring engagement, June wedding.” 

“Only you can take a simple yes or no question and turn it into something so much more.” Joe kisses him tenderly, his lips pliant and soft as they move against Cherry’s. His hand moves to card through pink locks as the other settles around a slender hip. 

Cherry’s exhalation of breath is gentle, barely audible as his lips part and the tip of his tongue tentatively slides along Joe’s bottom lip. His arms come up to wrap around his partner’s neck and he’s pulled impossibly closer against a hard body. A thick thigh slides between his own, lightly pressing against his twitching length. His body reacts all on it’s own, hips rolling forward to chase a delicious friction. He deepens the kiss, tasting Joe for the first time and immediately feeling a strong sense of urgency for more. His fingers tighten in green waves and he can’t help but echo the small moan that rumbles in the broad chest pressed against his own. 

“Cherry,” Joe whispers against his mouth, “Can I?”

He’s breathless and slightly lightheaded. He doesn’t trust his voice, afraid that the emotion he’s been struggling to contain for years will make him sound as vulnerable as he feels. So, he takes Joe’s hand and leads the man to his room, sliding the door shut behind them. His fingers tremble as he begins to unbutton his pajama top, but Joe’s hand on top of his, stops him. “Let me,” he insists, and Cherry doesn’t fight him. 

His breathing becomes labored, frayed around the edges as buttons are slowly undone. Hands that have  _ always _ been gentle slide into the thin fabric to push the shirt from his body, the light pink silk top fluttering to the floor. He shivers, uncertain if it’s from anticipation of what’s to come, or the sensation of fingertips ghosting over his sensitive body. His eyes close as Joe leans in to nose against his neck, inhaling slowly, and exhaling, 

“You’re so gorgeous, Cherry. Every inch of you.” 

A witty retort dies on his tongue as warm lips are pressed against his pulse point. His knees buckle and he has to grip Joe’s arms tightly as lips part to suckle lightly on pale flesh. He bruises easily, but right now he doesn’t care. He wants Joe to leave his mark. He already has in ways that Cherry was completely unaware of — every late night conversation, every shared secret, the nights Cherry couldn’t sleep, the way Joe goes out of his way to prepare traditional Japanese dishes for him because the rich food has been too heavy for his stomach, the way he looks at Cherry and makes him feel like he’s the only person worthwhile in a room full of people —until now. Who Joe is to him, the importance of their relationship, the depth of their bond, is permanently etched on his heart in a vibrantly bright tattoo; one that tells their story from their first time meeting and ends with them old and gray, surrounded by their great grandchildren. 

“You with me?” Joe checks in. His fingers slide back and forth over the waistband of Cherry’s pajama bottoms. 

“Always,” he replies, voice soft and sensual. 

Fingers slide into the waist of his pants, slowly pushing them down over his hips. The material catches against his erection, his cock bobbing free as his pants are pushed completely down. He steps out of them, fully exposed, emotionally as well as physically, and for once, he doesn’t rush to cover himself. Instead, he reaches up and tugs on the ribbon that’s loosely holding his hair back. His hair falls around his shoulders like cherry blossoms in Spring, light and beautiful, complementing the soft flush that has spread from his cheeks down into his chest. 

Joe takes a step back, exhaling slowly as his eyes roam the length of Cherry’s body. “So beautiful,” he whispers. His arousal is prominent and straining against his loose gray sweatpants. He moves to unzip his hoodie and Cherry steps forward, repeating the same exchange from earlier. 

“Let me.” He slowly unzips, pushing the sweater from broad shoulders. He squeezes Joe’s bicep, moving his hand inward to lightly trail his fingers through the fine trail of green hair in the valley between large pecs. Abdominal muscles twitch under his light touch and a sharp inhalation of breath is followed by a low groan as he eases his fingers over Joe’s clothed erection. He pushes down the sweats and lifts a palm to his face, licking a long stripe against it before fitting his fingers around the pulsing length. 

“Cherry,” Joe gasps. 

“Kaoru,” he corrects. Hands tangle in his hair and he’s pulled forward, his mouth hungrily claimed by Kojiro’s. He returns the kiss with fervor, swallowing each breathless moan, each bitten off curse as he continues to work the weeping length in his fist. 

“Wait, wait,” Kojiro reaches between them, stilling his wrist. “Not like this. Together, okay?” 

He fights the urge to continue, instead, turning to rifle through the nearest dresser to procure a bottle of lubricant, settling on the futon, and spreading his knees to welcome Kojiro between them. The larger man settles between his thighs, sliding his warm hands up and down pale skin. An easy silence hangs between them, only broken up by the popping of the cap and the soft rush of air as liquid is pushed out onto thick fingers. 

“I’ll stop. It doesn’t matter how far gone we are, if you need me to…” Kojiro trails off. 

“I know.” He reaches up to pull Kojiro down, once again joining their mouths together in a slow, searing kiss. He gasps softly as a slick fingertip circles his rim, lightly pressing against it, before resuming the teasing encircling. A low moan escapes from his throat as a finger slowly pushes in. Lips trail from the corners of his mouth to his jawline, a soft groan reaching his ears as Kojiro withdraws his finger and slowly sinks it back inside, deeper than before. He clings to the man, fingertips pressing hard into a muscular back as his legs tremble. 

A second finger teases at his hole, and he whimpers, sucking in a sharp breath and arching his back as he’s slowly worked open. No one has  _ ever _ been this gentle with him. They’re sloppy and fast, opening him up quickly in their haste to get inside of him. But Kojiro? He’s taking his time, fingers skillful and gentle as they curl up, lightly massaging the bundle of nerves that make his back arch and has him crying out the other’s given name. His cock throbs against his stomach, pre-cum pearling at the reddened tip in copious amounts. He canters his hips up, meeting the slow motion of experienced fingers as he’s pulled closer and closer to the edge. 

Heat blossoms in his middle, fanning out in his groin from hip to hip. His grip on Kojiro’s back changes, nails egging in deeply once a third finger is added alongside the other two. “Please?” He moans. “I’m so close and I—please?” 

“Okay sweetheart, okay.” Kojiro eases his fingers out and slicks up his cock with the excess lubricant before spreading more around Kaoru’s soft and fluttering rim. 

He tries to hold it in, but he fails wonderfully, exhaling a long, low, “Kojiro” as inch after glorious inch sinks inside of him, stretching him open and filling him completely. 

“Goddamnit,” Kojiro groans as he presses his face into Kaoru’s neck. His fingers flex around the thighs wrapped around his waist, squeezing tightly as he catches his breath. “I’m not—“

“Me either,” he pants. His walls tighten around Kojiro when he withdraws his hips, almost as if his body is trying to stop him and hold him captive. He presses a hand to his mouth, eyes rolling shut as hips thrust forward to meet his ass in a light kiss. 

“I want to hear you,” Kojiro gasps out, “Need to hear you.” His grip tightens on narrow hips and he pulls Kaoru into his thrusts. “Don’t hold back baby.”

“Hhhnnn—fuck,” he rushes out in a single breath. His hips rise, matching the pace that was slow, but is steadily building to a more fevered tempo. When Kojiro places all of his weight on top of him, pressing his back firmly into the futon, the angle changes, causing Kaoru to not only feel incredibly full, but each push forward nudges against his prostate, sending bright shocks of pleasure coursing through his body. “Yesyesyes, oh god, Kojiro. Please. Fuck. Please.” 

Kojiro easily adjusts their position, holding onto Kaoru’s waist as he sits back on his calves. His fingers tangle in the long pink mane as he rocks his hips up, thrusting forward in shallow, controlled motions. “Cum for me, love,” he gasps. “Let go baby, I got you.”

Kaoru pushes his face into Kojiro’s neck, voice loud and cracking as he moans his release. His sticky spend coats their stomachs and chest. He can feel Kojiro throbbing deep inside of him and with the whisper of one word, “Inside,” Kojiro tips over, spilling deeply inside of him. 

*******

  
“You okay?” 

Cherry tilts his head up to look at Joe. He’s resting on the others chest, fingers tracing indistinguishable shapes and patterns into a tanned and toned stomach. He hums softly, “Mmm yeah, but if you stop playing with my hair, I’ll kick you out. Naked.”

Joe scoffs, “And let your entire building see all of this?” He gestures towards his body. 

“You’re right. No one needs to see my boyfriend naked except for me.” 

Joe’s fingers pause against his scalp. “Boyfriend?” He asks cautiously. 

“Do you prefer partner?” Cherry kisses Joe’s jaw. “Man-friend?” He laughs softly, waiting for Joe to answer. Receiving none, he pushes up on an elbow to look down at him. “Oh my god. Are you—are you  _ crying _ ?” 

“No,” Joe sniffles. “You’re crying.” 

“I most certainly am not,” Cherry sits up, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re such a pussy.” 

“Says the person who cried when they had their third orgasm.” 

Cherry punches Joe’s shoulder. “I wasn’t crying. My eyes were just moist.” 

“I would cry if I had three orgasms.” 

“You had  _ four _ , you hairless ape.” 

“One of them didn’t count,” Joe protests. 

“It’s not my fault you have the stamina of an eighteen year old virgin.”

“No one told you to ride me in reverse cowgirl!” 

Langa’s voice rings out from across the hallway, “As happy as I am that you two have  _ finally _ figured out your complicated relationship status, I’ve already been traumatized enough. Please. Shut up.” 

Cherry claps a hand to his mouth, blushing profusely. “Oh my god,” he whispers. 

Joe’s laugh is booming and boisterous as he responds, “My bad bro.” 

“So embarrassing,” Cherry groans as he flops back onto the futon.

Joe rolls over onto his side and brushes the hair out of Cherry’s face. “Boyfriend?” 

“Did you forget how to form full sentences?” Cherry teases. 

“Don't deflect.” 

“Fine,” Cherry grumbles. “But you have to look away.” Joe’s brow crinkles and Cherry snaps, “Just do it.” When he turns away, Cherry takes a deep breath and begins, “It took me a long time to admit it to myself, but you’ve always been my soft place to land, Kojiro. And as much as I don’t like titles,” he inhales slowly, “I would be honored to be your boyfriend.” Cherry yelps as he’s enveloped in a tight hug. He struggles, in vain, before melting into the touch, huffing a feigned impatient sigh. After a few seconds, he taps at Joe’s shoulder. “It’s hot. I’m gross, you’re gross. We need to—“ he pauses, pulling back from the hug to look at Joe with a raised eyebrow. “ _ Seriously Kojiro?” _

Joe’s grin is sheepish, a light blush on his cheeks as he shrugs, “I’ve waited a decade for this. I can’t help it.” 

“PLEASE HELP IT. For the love of god, please!” Langa yells. 

“We should probably do this at my place next time,” Joe laughs as Cherry covers his face. 

“That would be best,” he mumbles from behind his hands. A kiss is pressed to the top of his head and Joe springs up from the futon. Cherry lowers his hands and watches Joe slip out of the room to head down the hallway to the bathroom. 

His body aches, in a way that makes him blush and hold back an embarrassing giggle. He hasn’t felt this relaxed after sex in—well, never. He sits up quickly, heart pounding in his chest as he takes stock of his mental and emotional experiences over the last few hours. 

_ So, I finally fucked—no, no. That was  _ **_different_ ** _. It felt different. Slower, gentler, oh god— _ he scrubs a hand down his face as he groans internally—  _ I was loud.  _ **_Really_ ** _ loud. Poor Langa.  _ He holds his hand to his mouth as he identifies the truths.  _ I enjoyed it… I wasn’t scared. I didn’t think about  _ **_him_ ** _ once… I wonder if that was because…  _

“Oh you crafty asshole!” Cherry exclaims. He grabs a robe, pulling it on quickly and cinching the belt closed as he stalks down the hallway. He pushes open the bathroom door and points a finger at Joe, his threatening aura quickly filling the space. “You sneaky asshole.” 

Joe is mid rinse, soap running down his chest and abs, as he turns to face Cherry. “Huh?” 

Cherry closes the bathroom door behind him. “You—all of it. The hug,” he whispers, “the phone sex, the night at your place. The-the—“ 

Joe interjects, “Letting you set the pace, kind of sort of agreeing to your terms and conditions, the date at the aquarium. Mhm,” he smiles as he finishes rinsing off. “It wasn’t being sneaky or crafty, Cherry. I genuinely wanted to show you that a  _ relationship _ doesn’t have to hurt. That you’re worth more than your body, even though it is a beautiful body. It was never just about sex for me. My hope was that, even if it wasn’t with me, you would be able to feel comfortable being in a loving relationship.” 

Cherry’s anger dissipates. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Because I know you. When have I  _ ever _ been able to tell you something and you don’t disagree for the sake of disagreeing? A few months ago, when this all started, how would you have handled it if I told you ‘Hey, the corrective emotional experience you’re looking for is deeper than sex and maybe we should go on a few dates so you can see that?’ Huh?” 

“I would have called you stupid.” 

“Yup.” Joe towels off his hair and sits on the edge of the tub. “I didn’t want to push you into anything, but I did want to show you what it would be like to feel safe, loved, and prioritized.” Joe opens his arms and when Cherry settles between them, he looks up at him. “What’s really on your mind?” 

“I don’t feel bad and that doesn’t feel good.” He knows that doesn’t make sense. He elaborates, “I was able to stay present and focused. My mind didn’t wander. I didn’t want to push you away when you touched me. Stop smiling,” he snaps, “and I don’t know how to feel about that.” 

“Why do you  _ have _ to feel anything?” 

Cherry blinks down at him. “What?” 

“Why not just enjoy what happened? No feelings, no judgments, unless you’re going to rate my performance as a solid 10 out of 10.” 

“I can do that?” 

“Rate my performance? Of course, only if you leave a five star review,” he teases. “In all seriousness, yes. You can. You don’t have to figure out how you feel emotionally about sex right away. If it feels good, if I can make you feel good, isn’t that enough? Can it be enough for now?” 

Cherry constantly analyzes his emotions and thoughts, taking in new information, sifting through old, and coming up with a conclusion that will often help him determine his next steps. So to not do that, to just live in the moment, enjoying how he feels physically without connecting emotion to it? “That’s scary. Yet freeing. More scary than freeing.” 

“Mmm well,” Joe hums softly as he unties Cherry’s robe. “We can always run an experiment of sorts.” 

“And what would that be, you lech?” 

“I can touch you, let’s say here,” the pad of his thumb slides across a sensitive nipple, “and ask you how feel?” 

“Like you just touched my nipple,” Cherry deadpanned. 

“What about here, smart ass?” Joe’s fingers trail along the inside of his thighs. 

Cherry shivers and swallows thickly, softly replying, “It feels nice. It tickles a little though.” 

“Duly noted. What about here?” Joe’s touch is as light as a feather as fingertips caress Cherry’s hips. 

“That tickles too, but I like it.” Him liking it is a given, thanks to his cock slowly filling out. 

“What about when I touch your neck?” 

Another full body shudder passes through him as Joe’s thumb slides over his pulse point. “Good. It feels good.” 

“And when I do this?” Joe pulls Cherry into his lap and kisses him softly. “How does that feel?” 

Like everything is right with the world. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Move in with me. If you really want, you can sublease your apartment for 6 months.” He pulls up to the restaurant and cuts the engine. He turns his body in his seat to look at Cherry. “At the end of six months if you think it best, your apartment is still there. No harm, no foul.” 
> 
> Cherry blinks a few times before replying, his voice barely above a whisper, “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and loving this story as much as I do 🖤

Cherry’s hips roll forward with fluid ease. His eyes fall shut as he leans back, changing the angle of his position so Joe’s cock just barely hits his prostate with each motion forward. The hand on his hip tightens, bringing him forward again as legs prop up behind him, barring him from running away from the overwhelming sensation. 

“Look—hah fuck—at me,” Joe gasps. 

Cherry obediently opens his eyes and stares down at his boyfriend. Red irises are blown wide, nearly eaten up by dilated pupils. His bottom lip is held captive between his teeth and a thin layer of sweat adds a glistening sheen to his body. Cherry’s walls tighten involuntarily as he notices the full body flush that’s lending a soft pink hue to tanned skin. “I can’t,” he whimpers. 

“Yeah you can,” Joe’s hand caresses the side of his face. “You’re doing so well for me. One more, okay?” 

Cherry’s moans are soft, contrasting with the renewed vigor in which he moves his hips. He places a hand on Joe’s chest, fingers moving over to tweak his nipples with admittedly more force than necessary, but the result is well worth it. He can feel Joe’s length throbbing inside of him, pulsing against his insides as the man underneath him bites back a moan. He attempts to slow down, wanting to savor the moment and stave off his impending orgasm, but fingers tighten around his hips and without warning, Joe is thrusting deep inside of him, repeatedly hitting the spot that makes his toes curl and his vision white. 

“Cum for me baby,” Joe demands. “I want to hear you sing for me Kaoru. Please?” 

“Ahh fuckfuckfuck,” Cherry moans loudly, the sound biting off into an almost pained whimper as his body goes rigid, hips stuttering forward from the force of his fourth orgasm. 

Joe pulls out, maneuvering Cherry so his hips are suspended above his own, grunting a string of colorful expletives as he follows suit, painting his abdomen an opaque white. “Holy shit,” he pants heavily. He reaches up to swipe the hair out of Cherry’s eyes, grinning sleepily up at him. “I love you.”

Hearing those words still made Cherry bashful and he responded in his own way, slapping Joe’s chest and saying, “Hurry up. We told Reki and Langa we’d meet them at the shrine at 2pm. It’s 1:15. We both need to shower. SEPARATELY, Kojiro,” he adds as Joe ruts against his ass. “Seriously, how do you have so much stamina?” Cherry kisses his forehead and practically falls from the bed, his legs weak and trembling. He pads across the room to his overnight bag, fussing softly about “living outside of a bag.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Joe offers. 

“Do what?” Cherry places his glasses back on and turns to face Joe. 

“You can leave stuff here. I’ve already cleared a drawer for you.” 

Cherry gathers the items from his bag and begins to open the dresser drawers, searching for the one Joe supposedly cleared. “Bold of you to assume I just need one. When we get back you’ll also need to clear a quarter of your closet and make room in the bathroom for some toiletries. I cannot be cruel to my skin any longer and use your three in one body wash, shampoo, and conditioner.” He’s startled into silence when arms wrap around his waist and Joe noses along his neck. 

“Okay,” he breathes against Cherry’s nape. 

For some odd reason, Cherry’s anxiety spikes, adrenaline rushing through his veins and briefly triggering his fight or flight response. However, he repeats the mantra his therapist gave him, reminding himself that he’s safe, Joe’s safe, and this is okay. “Okay,” he softly repeats. 

“Okay,” Joe kisses along his shoulder blade, sweeping his hair aside to bite gently at his skin. 

Cherry melts into his touch, sighing softly as soft nips turn into light suckling. “We got stuck in traffic,” he moans lightly. 

“It was terrible,” Joe agrees as he bends Cherry over the dresser.

“The—fuck, slow go slow—worst,” he whimpers as Joe pushes inside of him again. 

Despite the time constraints, they slowly chase their pleasure. 

*******

“My GPS said it would have taken you guys twenty minutes  _ with  _ traffic,” Reki teases. “What were you two doing? Huh? Huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows at Joe. 

Cherry is able to slide his fan from his sleeve, smack Reki and Langa (for good measure) and return it all before Joe is able to answer. 

“Why me?” Langa grimaces. 

“You’re a reflection of your boyfriend.” 

“Then does that mean you’re also an idiot?” Reki fires back. A loud  _ wack  _ is followed by a drawn out whine. “Owww! I was just joking.” 

Cherry rolls his eyes as Reki and Joe begin to roughhouse in line. He doesn’t correct them, reminding himself that he doesn’t need to be in control all of the time. They reach the front and without prompting, Reki and Joe settle down, taking the moment seriously. Cherry rings the bell and they place their coins in the offertory box. He says a quick prayer of thanks, concentrating on the strength that was given to him last year when he needed it most. He thanks the gods for Langa and the teens' wisdom, along with his acceptance to a university. He thanks them for Reki and his kind spirit that has been nurturing Langa out of his shell, and when he gets to Joe, his skin grows warm as he whispers, 

“Thank you for giving me a lifelong companion that has never given up on me.”

Joe’s fingers brush against his, a small reminder that he’s not alone, and their fingers intertwine, each one of them squeezing the other’s hand reassuringly. 

After their prayers, Reki and Langa rush off to purchase omikuji. Cherry stares after them, smiling softly as he reminisces about the many times he, Joe, and Reki would come to the shrine with their parents. Joe was always eager to go buy a fortune and surprisingly, he took it seriously throughout the entire year. This year, however, he stays beside Cherry, watching the two boys disappear into the crowd with the same faint smile. 

“You’re not going to purchase your fortune? What about an ema?” 

Joe shakes his head lightly. “Nope.”

The corners of Cherry’s mouth pull down in a frown. “Why not?” 

Joe lifts Cherry’s hand to his mouth and kisses the back. “This is the year that my wish has finally come true.”

Cherry smacks him with the fan, blushing as he mumbles, “You’re so embarrassing.” He adds, “I love you.” 

*******

Spring brings the promise of new life and rebirth, and with it, the moment Cherry had been dreading. Joe is helping Reki gather luggage from the trunk of their rental car. He and Langa are standing off to the side, avoiding the others gaze and the topic at hand. Langa decides to be brave and speak first.

“I’ll call you as soon as we land. The flight is only three hours.” 

“I know,” Cherry sniffs. “As soon as you land you call me. Okay?” 

“I just—“ Langa starts but he falls silent as he makes eye contact with his cousin. “I promise.” 

“And you keep an eye on Reki? Okay? Make sure you both study. Flunking out is not an option. And call your mom. She’s planning a trip to visit. You need to let her know when you have a holiday. And don’t blow through the money we’ve saved for you two.” He directs that statement at Reki. “Understood?” 

“Yes mom,” Reki sighs loudly. “Anything else?” 

Joe interjects, “Don’t live on convenience store food, please. I have worked on refining both your palates for the past year or so. If I find out you’re living on cheap bentos, I  _ will _ fly out there and cook enough food to feed a small army.” 

“So, eat cheap food so Joe can come cook for us. Got it,” Langa deadpanned. 

“Anything else,  _ dad _ ?” Reki sneers up at Joe. 

“One more thing,” Cherry adds. He pulls both boys into a quick hug and swipes at his eyes with his fingertips before he pulls away. “Okay. Now go before you miss your flight and wind up stuck on a ferry for 25 hours.” 

The two grab their luggage and join hands, waving goodbye one last time before walking into the airport. 

The car ride back to the restaurant is quiet. Cherry stares out of the window, fighting back the swell of emotions he’s feeling. He’s happy, but he wants to cry. He’s gotten used to having Langa at home and the thought of being alone in his apartment fills him with the familiar feeling of unease. Joe’s hand comes to rest on his knee, squeezing lightly. 

“You okay?” 

“No,” Cherry sighs. “I’ve gotten used to having him around. It’s been awhile since I’ve been on my own and I—I’m scared.” 

“There’s an easy fix for that, you know.” 

Cherry hums softly. “I’m too old for a roommate and financially speaking, I don’t need one. And when Langa comes home on holiday, where is he going to sleep? It wouldn’t be ri—“ 

“Move in with me.” 

His mouth falls open as he turns his head to stare at Joe. “What?” 

“Move in with me. If you really want, you can sublease your apartment for 6 months.” He pulls up to the restaurant and cuts the engine. He turns his body in his seat to look at Cherry. “At the end of six months if you think it best, your apartment is still there. No harm, no foul.” 

Cherry blinks a few times before replying, his voice barely above a whisper, “Okay.” 

“Seriously?!” Joe’s excitement is palpable and Cherry can’t help but mirror it. 

“Yeah. I practically live there anyway. I couldn’t find a shirt I wanted to wear the other day and it dawned on me that most of my belongings are at your place. It only makes se—mmmm,” he’s cut off by Joe’s soft, yet passionate kiss. 

_ “Whatever you need to do, do it with me.”  _

_ “Whatever you want from me, I’ll do. I’m yours.” _

_ “I’ve waited ten years. I’m fine with playing the long game.” _

_ “I remember what’s important to me.”  _

_ “I don’t want anyone else Kaoru. I’ve always wanted you.”  _

_ “We’re both going to fuck up. We’re both going to do and say things that hurt each other, but the differences are that it won’t be done intentionally, I’ll never hurt you physically, and we can always repair.”  _

_ “Let go baby, I got you.” _

_ “This is the year that my wish has finally come true.” _

Cherry whispers against Joe’s lips, “Mine too.” 


End file.
